


Charlotte's Coming Out Compilation

by BackyardPodcast



Series: A World of Lucky Spots [2]
Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Coming Out, F/F, Future Fic, Gen, Heart-to-Heart, Identity Reveal, Miraculous Ladybug Next Generation, Next Gen, Next Generation, Original Character(s), Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Those be the next gen kiddos, Trans Female Character, no beta we die like men, probably canon compliant
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-28
Updated: 2020-11-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:40:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,795
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26150524
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BackyardPodcast/pseuds/BackyardPodcast
Summary: Being a teenage superhero has its struggles. Being a trans teenage superhero has even more. But it also has its benefits too.A different perspective of The Tool of Knowledge, with a focus on all of Charlotte's coming outs.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir & Emma Agreste & Hugo Agreste & Louis Agreste & Marinette Dupain-Cheng, Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Series: A World of Lucky Spots [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1779409
Comments: 23
Kudos: 39





	1. Plagg

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back babyyy Just a heads up for any new readers, please do yourself a favor and read The Tool of Knowledge first. This version contains sooo many spoilers for that and also glosses over a lot of the reveals and events on the basis that the reader should already know them. It will definitely make more sense with part one of the series under your belt. Happy reading!

Coming out isn’t a fast process, and it never really ends. Instead of being a singular act, it’s closer to working in a mechanics shop. Each case requires different maintenance; however, it’s ultimately still fixing a car. Over and over. It gets easier each time too. One learns to recognize what parts the car needs and what needs to be done (and which jobs to turn down), but more importantly, one becomes confident in their skills as a mechanic. There’s a backlog of customers all satisfied with the service, meaning one bad review won’t leave as much of an impact. 

The truth is, meeting new people never stops. Inevitably, some of them will become important enough to you, regardless of where you draw that line, that you’ll want to come out to them. You never stop coming out.

The start, however, is slower. First it’s to someone trustworthy, to someone you know will have your back or at the very least won’t blab. Then, it’s a second person, maybe with that first person at your side, maybe on your own. Maybe that second person is with a third and fourth and fifth person, or maybe it’s one-on-one once more. You keep coming out, over and over and over.

Maybe the mechanics shop metaphor wasn’t the right comparison though, because Charlotte didn’t know anything about fixing cars. She was well acquainted with her grandparents’ bakery, and her father’s teaching, and her mother’s fashion lines, but not mechanics. Perhaps an allegory about superhero identities would be more apt, as her parents, the precious heroes of Paris, also taught her about Miraculouses. However, they didn’t always tell her the most important facts.

“So how come you never guessed each other’s identities?” Louis asked over breakfast one morning as Charlotte walked into the kitchen. He sat at the counter, bowl of cereal in front of him, while both their parents buzzed around the room.

Adrien pulled his oatmeal out of the microwave. “Technically, I did in another timeline--”

“His stupid haircut,” Marinette cut him off, then slid a bowl of Cheerios toward an open chair without stopping her scurrying. Louis snorted at her answer while Adrien squawked. She continued without reaction. “Here you go, Hugo, honey.”

Sitting down, Charlotte accepted the food with a nod. 

Adrien protested, “You’re not even going to give the real answer of it being Miraculous magic?!”

“Nope.” She booped him on the nose then zoomed out of the room. Charlotte assumed it was to wake up Emma, who still hadn’t awoken despite how soon they had to leave for school. Her father liked to joke that she took after Marinette.

From his seat next to Charlotte’s, Louis was still laughing in mystification. “What does she mean, your stupid haircut?”

Oatmeal bowl in hand, Adrien sat down at the counter with them. “My Chat Noir transformation had really shaggy hair, longer than I had in normal life. I thought it made me look  _ very _ cool.” He wiggled his head a little on the last two words.

While Louis gave him a skeptical look, Charlotte’s eyes widened at his words. Longer than he had in normal life… “The Miraculous can change your hair length?”

She’d seen photos of her parents’ younger selves, both masked and not. On some level she’d recognized that her father’s hair cut differed between the two looks, but to have it so blatantly brought to the forefront of her mind...

Adrien pointed his oatmeal spoon at her. “Hugo. This is centuries old magical girl transformation jewelry we’re talking about.” He slipped the utensil into his waiting mouth, then continued while still chewing. “Of  _ course _ it can change your hair length.”

She nodded, her mind drifting away from the conversation around her. A hand wandered to the back of her head to fiddle with the cropped hair, and a questionable idea began to form. 

The hardest part of her plan was overthinking the preparation.

Charlotte found herself home alone for three hours the following Saturday, and she spent the entire time practicing every motion of her plan. Up until her sister returned from her drama meeting (something about promoting auditions for their upcoming play?), Charlotte checked every detail to ensure a perfectly smooth execution.

That night, she stayed up until one a.m. Maybe lethargy should have called her to sleep more than it did, but nervousness and excitement and “am I really doing this?” kept her alert. When she was sure her parents were fast asleep, Charlotte crept out of her room and out into the wood floor hallway.

This was challenge number one. Although their house wasn’t exactly old, it wasn’t really new either, which meant enough creaky floorboards to form a symphony. Fortunately, she’d already had a solid understanding of their location before today, but that didn’t mean she hadn’t choreographed each step to her parents’ room. 

Leaving her bedroom door open, Charlotte took her first footstep to cross past the first three boards. Okay. Good. Then, she placed her left foot diagonally to meet the wall before creeping along it until she met Louis’ bedroom door. Unfortunately for her, Louis was a notoriously light sleeper.

Inhale through her nose. 

Exhale through her mouth. 

She could do this. She stretched her foot out across the hallway and took a large step to hug the wall opposite. She settled her weight on the board and-- no noise. Okay. She was good.

After about thirty seconds of shuffling later, past the bathroom and Emma’s room, Charlotte found herself at the threshold of her parents’ bedroom. Nearly half way there, but the hardest section was still ahead of her. A small part of her itched to turn around, but a hand carding through her short locks was all the encouragement she needed to continue. Another deep breath, and she slid the door open just enough to slip through.

The room was, predictably, dark. Though light trickled into the hallway from the open bathroom, her parents’ room had no such luxury. 

Charlotte gave her eyes a minute to adjust to the pitch black before once again sneaking forward. She twisted through another prepared dance to avoid creaky floorboards until she stood at the side of her father’s sleep form.

Maybe she was supposed to contemplate how peaceful he looked while dreaming. Maybe it would have been appropriate to consider the morality of what she was about to do. Charlotte didn’t think about any of that when she honed in on the Cat Miraculous. The ring sat in plain sight on a hand laid just so on a pillow. It was a simple gray band, inconspicuous to the unknowing eye, but it was the crux of her goal that night. 

Taking her father’s hand in her own, Charlotte tugged at the Miraculous, and it--

It wouldn’t budge.

She pulled again. And again. And Again. As gently and smoothly and with as much power as she dared. It couldn’t even make it past the first knuckle. 

Various panicked curse words whizzed through her brain as she wondered when the last time Adrien would have taken off the ring was. It was probably years, if not decades, ago. Chances were, his finger had grown with the Miraculous on it, wedging it on. Though Adrien would have no issues removing it as the wielder, Charlotte had no such allowance. She couldn’t just yank it off.

Deep inhale. Exhale. She’d have to go about this the old fashioned way.

As carefully as she could, Charlotte wiggled the ring back and forth while tugging it away from her father’s palm. It stuck at the first knuckle once more, but a couple more twists, and it slipped over and off his finger.

Sighing in relief, Charlotte dropped Adrien’s hand back to the pillow and slipped the Miraculous into her sweatpants’ pocket. She found herself sinking into a sense of security until her father sucked in a deep breath. 

Her entire muscular system froze in place. This was it, this was how she got caught. There would be no “I was heading to the bathroom” when she was very clearly in her parents’ room and had the thieved ring in her pocket. No, she was caught, done for, and she wouldn’t even be able to explain herself.

(Because Charlotte knew that if she’d asked to borrow the Cat Miraculous, her dad would have acquiesced easily.)

(Because Charlotte knew that that permission would come with the caveat of Adrien knowing  _ why _ she wanted the ring and getting to see her transformed self.)

(Because while she could physically explain what she was doing and why, every single cell in her body revolted at the thought of letting the world in on what she was still figuring out herself.)

Her father shuffled his position, sliding his hand under his pillow and stretching his shoulder and then he was still once more. Charlotte stayed frozen for a minute more, until she was  _ sure _ that he was unconscious and hadn’t just caught her in the act.

When she finally moved, she moved with speed, sprinting out of the bedroom as fast as she could while sticking to her route. Once the door had slid closed behind her, Charlotte allowed herself one more deep breath before continuing on. She moved quicker than she had on her trip there, but far, far slower than how she’d darted out of her parents’ bedroom. 

Hugging one wall, then flipping over to the other. Reaching the end of the hallway and skipping the three boards in front of her open door into her room. Closing the door. Giving a huge sigh of relief.

She’d made it.

Charlotte didn’t transform that night like she’d planned. Instead, she’d tucked away the Miraculous into her sock drawer and immediately passed out in bed. Staying up late had never been her jam.

Transforming the following night would be a cinch, she told herself. It was just one day; her father wouldn’t notice a missing Plagg or ring in that time, right?

“Hey, Hugo--” Adrien opened her bedroom door after knocking the next morning. “--You haven’t seen my Miraculous recently, have you?” Well, so much for that thought.

“Uhhh.” Charlotte resisted the urge to glance toward her dresser from where she laid on her bed. “No, I haven’t-- I mean, don’t you always wear it?”

Sighing, he leaned on her door frame. It was ten o’clock, and he was still in his pajamas. Her father always got dressed after eating breakfast, if not before. And he always ate breakfast before eight. “Yeah, I do,” Adrien admitted. “Not sure how I could’ve lost it but...” He sighed again. Then, with a glance toward her, he perked up, seeming to remember where he was. “Just keep an eye out for it for me, won’t you, kiddo?”

Charlotte nodded jerkily. She couldn’t bring herself to say anything, to deny aloud that she knew exactly where the Cat Miraculous was. Flashing a smile at her, he slid her bedroom door closed as he left. 

She held herself still for the twenty seconds it took for the creaks of the floorboards beneath his feet to fade away, then jumped out of bed as if electrocuted. After she reached her dresser, Charlotte dug through her sock drawer where the lost Miraculous was hid. 

Though it had gone unnoticed in the dark of night, the ring had reverted to its undisguised green paw and black base style. She’d never seen it like that in person before, wasn’t sure anyone had seen it like that in person in the over two decades. Both the design and lack of wear seemed too sleek to be hundreds of years old, yet Charlotte knew this ring had passed between hands for dozens of generations.

A memory tickled the back of her mind. At her asking, her Aunt Alya had once told her about some of the past users of the Cat Miraculous. “A Chinese man named Hēi Māo had it for a couple decades; he got up to some fun stuff. Hercules-- Well, he’s a culture hero, he never really existed, but there’s a lot of evidence that he was largely based off of wielders of the Cat Miraculous. Plus, there was that medieval knight named...” She’d continued on further, explaining a history of noble people using the Miraculous for genuine, heroic efforts. And here Charlotte was, stealing the ring from her father to look a little different.

A knock came through the door, and in a flurry, she slammed the drawer closed. “Come in!” Her voice cracked due to both panic and puberty. 

“Hey.” Louis opened the door without and, without letting go of the handle, stepped only half into the room. “You seen my headphones?”

“Oh!” Now, this missing object she actually knew the location of  _ and _ could share it. “I think it’s in the living room, want me to help look?”

He nodded. “Thanks.”

“Yeah, of course, dude.”

Charlotte pressed away any thoughts of Miraculous out of her mind. She didn’t want to think about it. 

It wasn’t until the sun set on the house that she returned to her sock drawer. The light switches had been all flipped off, except now, at the stroke of midnight, Charlotte clicked her bedroom’s back on. It was a dead give away to anyone who got up and walked the shared hallway, but not being able to see her transformed self kind of defeated the point. 

Silence at night always felt more fragile than its daylight counterpart. Maybe it was the knowledge that disturbing the quiet would mean waking others. Maybe it was the opposite, that the illusion of isolation in the darkness would shatter with too much noise. The silence draped over Charlotte like a bulky quilt as she slipped the Cat Miraculous from the drawer and onto her right middle finger. 

The ring emitted a sphere of light that zipped around her body, like a dancer pique turning in a circle, before stopping at eye level. It faded to reveal someone she’d known since birth.

Plagg glanced around the room quickly, confused. “Hugo? What do you think--”

She hadn’t planned at all how she would explain to him what she was doing. Probably should have thought of something. This wasn’t good. Instead of an in depth explanation, she cried, “Claws out!” 

Before Charlotte could regret her volume, the ring sucked the kwami in, and a green light washed over her. It was like being pure energy and completely at ease at the same time. Her body was fluid, shifting at her will. A little more shape here. Soften up an edge there. Oh, and make that hair  _ way _ longer. She’d come into this thinking she’d just get to alter her hair cut, but she got to change so much more.

The glow faded, and Charlotte was back in her room. She glanced down to see herself clothed in a leather bodysuit, complete with matching boots and a golden bell around her neck. Sweeping black hair draped down her back from its ponytail. And her body… where was once a thin plank was now replaced with curves and a chest and it was  _ wonderful _ . She stumbled over to her mirror to take a look--

She looked like Emma.

That made sense of course, the twins had always looked similar, and she’d just gave them one more thing in common. But Charlotte hadn’t expected to just… not look like herself. This was what she wanted to look like, not what she did look like. This was too much too fast.

“Shit,” Charlotte whispered to herself. “Claws in.” The green glow swept away all the newness until she was back to her original, pajama-clad self.

Plagg reappeared from the ring. Now she was in for it. He was going to call her out for stealing his Miraculous, demand to know what she thought she was doing, probably speed right over to her parents and expose her on the spot. 

Instead, he floated up to her eye level. “You know, I had my suspicions,” he said, far more subdued than she’d expected. “But I never thought you’d hijack my Miraculous.”

“You knew?” She flinched internally, took a step back externally. Was it that obvious? Had anyone else figured it out? Did people  _ know? _

He shrugged. “You don’t live millions of years without picking up a few things, kid.”

Crossing her arms across her flat chest, Charlotte drooped down onto her bed. Apologies poured from her chest. “I’m sorry for taking your Miraculous, I just-- I wanted to try it out. And Tikki would’ve yelled at me.” 

(That wasn’t even mentioning that her ears weren’t pierced. Or that she only had confirmation the Cat Miraculous could change hair. Or that the other Miraculous were far more locked up than her parents’. Basically, stealing the ring had made the most sense.)

Plagg shook his head softly. “Nah, she wouldn’t have yelled, just given you one of her disappointed looks for stealing her earrings.”

“Obligatory reminder that that’s worse,” Charlotte said with a puff of laughter, which he then joined in on.

He smirked and shrugged playfully. “Hey, I’m just keeping things honest.”

She laughed again. Joking with Plagg was so easy; Charlotte had been doing so since she could speak. Talking about more personal stuff though… she bit her lip. “So what about you: are you yelling or dishing out some disappointed looks?”

“Ah, kid.” Plagg floated toward her, nuzzling against her cheek. “I’m not mad. You didn’t do anything wrong. Just get me some camembert, and we’ll call it even.”

She relaxed into the touch. “Yeah. Yeah, I can do that.” He wasn’t mad. Or shocked. Or disappointed. He was just… there for her.

“And, just a helpful hint,” Plagg continued, “If you make less drastic changes and slowly work up to the whole deal, it won’t be so overwhelming.” 

That… that was interesting advice, advice that would probably work, however… Pulling away from Plagg, Charlotte shook her head. “I’m not gonna keep the Miraculous. I need to return it in the morning.”

He gave her a doubtful look, like he knew something she didn’t. “Sure you will, kid.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woohoo!!! I told y'all I'd be writing more in this universe, even if it took me a couple of months. I have a whole list of little scene ideas, but every time I'd look at it, I'd be faced with the challenge of Choosing, which made my brain go "Well now I am not writing." This story contains a Lot of those little scenes, all tied together by the thread of Charlotte coming out to different people. 
> 
> This story will likely not update as often as TTOK. My evening extracurriculars start up next week which will eat up my time a bit. That's not to say I'll go too long without posting, it just might not be in the "less than a week" schedule that I had before. Plus, these updates are looking like they'll be longer than TTOK, so I think that's a fair trade.
> 
> Hmmm, should I continue my trend of recommending my eclectic music taste? Let's go with "Cult of Dionysus" because it Slaps.
> 
> Please leave a kudos and a comment if you enjoyed! Or if you didn't, clearly you cared enough to get to the endnotes, so leave one anyway! They are legit my motivation to write, so if you want more chapters faster they can be exchanged for written feedback.


	2. Alya

Charlotte didn’t return the ring in the morning. She didn’t return it the next day either, or the day after that. Instead, she found herself following Plagg’s advice. Extending her haircut only as far as a bob, starting with only the slightest amount of curves. He was right; it was more comfortable, more her. Wearing the ring, disguised or not, would be a dead give away, so she had to get creative. To hide the Miraculous, she sewed hidden pockets everywhere she could: her backpack, clothes, and even in some shoes. Whatever it took to keep transforming in secret. Sometimes it paid to have a fashion designer for a mother. 

She spent most of her time un-transformed, going about her day to day life. She still went to school, still completed her homework, still hung out with Ryan and Arlette, still practiced fencing and piano, and still did everything else she normally did. There was even a new kid in class that drew her attention.

Plagg ribbed on her in his usual way, but now it was just her he picked on, and Charlotte couldn’t mention his demands for more cheese to her family. She didn’t see him as much as she used to, because with the ring not on anyone’s finger and instead in some secret pocket, he wasn’t physically present. When he was out in the world, Plagg held onto his usual behavior with a titanic grip. Despite all his complaints about wanting camembert, he never once mentioned not seeing the rest of the family. Occasionally, Charlotte pressed him about it. She was already cooping him up, she didn’t need to add completely ignoring his feelings to her list of offenses.

“Do you miss hanging out with the rest of the family?”

Plagg scoffed. “Those losers? Nah.”

Charlotte had just gotten home from school and sat at her desk, unloading notebooks and her laptop from her backpack. She tried to put on the Cat Miraculous whenever she was alone to give him time outside of the ring.

She looked toward the corner of her desk where Plagg and a plate of camembert sat, mouth screwed up in concern. “Not even Dad? You guys have been together for years.”

“Psh, I’m an immortal being, kid, thirty-five years is _nothing.”_ He took a big bite of cheese.

Charlotte prodded, “Yet you know the exact time frame you’ve been together?”

Plagg sighed, but it was more exasperated than tired. “Being wielded by your father was great and all, but this is much more exciting. Besides, during most pass offs of my Miraculous, I lose contact with my old user’s life, but this time I still get to hear all about him! It’s great!”

Charlotte couldn’t help but laugh a little at that. “You’re serious? You’re enjoying this?”

“Duh.” Then, he froze and narrowed his eyes. “Wait, if I say ‘no,’ can I guilt trip you into getting more camembert?”

“Pfff, no.” She poked him in the tummy, then positioned herself over her homework. “C’mon, it’s pre-calc time.”

Plagg groaned. “Noooo, productivityyyyy.”

“Then eat your cheese and let me work.” She snorted and began working on question one.

If Charlotte hadn’t returned the Cat Miraculous when her father had initially noticed it was missing, and if she hadn’t returned it after transforming for the first time, she really should’ve returned it when the akumatized villain appeared. 

Since Louis had robotics club, and Emma was going over to a friend’s house, Charlotte was walking home from school by herself. This hadn’t happened since the previous school year, but once Emma’s play picked up and rehearsals began, it was sure to happen more. Fencing practiced way less than either of her siblings’ extracurriculars, meaning lots of walks home alone. That was what happened every year. Charlotte never really minded though; the calming solitude away from her family felt nice compared to her busy days. With her earbuds in, she listened to the most recent episode of a science podcast and meandered back to her home. 

As a woman explained pyroclastic flow in her ears, a cloud of bright green smoke drifted into view from several blocks away. She nearly tripped upon noticing it, and several passersby stopped to stare. “What is that?” Charlotte asked with no answer. Listening intently revealed no loud explosions, glancing down the street revealed no lava flow, but something rumbling in her gut told her that this wasn’t some building on fire. 

Something-- Something was wrong. 

Before her neurons could properly form a thought, Charlotte’s feet twitched beneath her. She was running, running towards the Something. Her shoes barely skidded the pavement before taking off again. Her backpack pounded against her spine, and it hurt a little, but she couldn’t stop. She couldn’t. Instead, her hand snuck into an internal pocket in her jacket to slip on a black ring. 

Plagg zoomed out from the Miraculous, almost falling behind her before keeping pace with her sprinting. “Woah, where you heading in such a hurry?”

Charlotte panted. “Not sure, but...” She pointed a hand towards the accumulating lime cloud above. 

He did a double take upon seeing the noxious smoke. “Wow, that almost looks like--”

They turned a corner, and the street was littered with bodies.

Skidding to a halt, she said a word that made her glad Plagg couldn’t report her to her parents. “Are they…?” She couldn’t make herself finish the question.

Plagg zipped down to a woman’s face and stuck a paw underneath her nose. “No, just unconscious.” 

She sighed in relief. “What… What can we do to help? Do you think we can wake them up?”

He didn’t answer at first; instead, he stayed suspended in one point of the air as he took in the sleeping people.

“Plagg?” Charlotte prodded.

He started making a rumbling noise that quickly transformed into a full out groan. “Nooooo, we’re gonna have to do our jooooob.” When he turned to face her, she noted that he looked more mildly perturbed than anything.

Charlotte squinted her eyes in confusion. “What, you mean, like, transform? In public?”

He moaned again, floating backwards on his back in no particular direction. “You ready to fight an akumatized villain?”

The gears in her brain whirred faster than they ever had before. Was she ready to fight? She hadn’t thought this was part of the deal when she took her father’s Miraculous. She took fencing lessons, but this wasn’t the same as poking people with metal sticks. This couldn’t go well. How was there even an akuma anyway? Only the Butterfly Miraculous could make those, but it was supposed to be locked up by her parents. No one should have been able to get it. 

(No one should have been able to get the Cat Miraculous either, though, and here she was.)

Did she really think that she could take on a real life supervillain?

Charlotte stared at the mess of unconscious people around her. Some were curled up against buildings, but others were sprawled in the streets. In the distance, several screams whispered through the air and to her ears. Maybe the more important question was ‘was she really okay with not trying?’ 

“Plagg.” Her voice shook, but just a little. “Claws out.”

Her first surprise was how right it felt to fight a supervillain on the streets of Paris. Charlotte’s parents had never avoided telling her and her siblings about the struggles of being superheros, but they’d also never shied away from how rewarding, how _exhilarating_ it was. Their descriptions were nothing close to the real thing though. 

In a burst of bold determination, she’d given herself hair down to her hips, even if her body wasn’t nearly as changed as it had been in her first transformation. The breeze winded its way through the locks as she raced after the akumatized woman down the street, and a laugh burst through her wide smile at the thrill of the chase.

The second surprise was the arrival of another hero on the scene, one she didn’t recognize. As Charlotte swerved around a corner, a red figure framed by the green smoke above leapt down from the rooftops to her side. 

“Hey.” The girl was shorter than her, with cropped blonde hair and a tense voice. “So we’re fighting evil.”

Charlotte found the breath to laugh amidst her pants for air. Apparently, fencing and a Miraculous did not make her an instant marathon runner. “Something like that, yeah.”

This girl… with her red bodysuit polka dotted black and yo-yo at her side… there was only one Miraculous she could’ve been wielding, but how on Earth did she get Charlotte’s mother’s earrings? Marinette wasn’t even in the country right now; how could this blonde kid have them?

“You can call me ‘Spots,’” the girl said, oblivious to the stream of questions swirling in Charlotte’s head.

The third surprise was how easy a name came to her. She’d spent weeks clicking through baby naming websites to come up with Charlotte, and yet--

“I’m feeling ‘Lucky,’” flowed off her tongue. 

Before Spots could groan on the pun, she tumbled into Charlotte’s-- no, _Lucky’s_ outstretched arm. The akumatized woman had slowed and turned around, and even from a distance, Lucky could see the rage painted on her face. 

The villain screeched, “Fine! If you won’t leave me alone--” She stuck a hand behind her back. “--then take THIS!” A volley of steaming green diapers flew at them, faster than should have been possible. 

The fourth surprise was how, after some trial and error, Spots and Lucky defeated the villain and captured the akuma. Lucky hadn’t been entirely convinced that they would be able to do it.

The fifth surprise was that purifying the butterfly revealed an old lady upset about having too many children loaded off on her to watch for the day. 

The sixth surprise was that, after sending the elderly woman on her way and parting ways with Spots, after detransforming and heading home, a rumble filled her chest; the same one that guided her toward the danger earlier. She couldn’t wait to be Lucky again.

Somewhere, in the back of her mind, Charlotte had known that her parents might realize how comparatively easy it would be for someone in the household to steal the Cat Miraculous, she hadn’t realized that they might not assume it was _her_ who stole it. Now, even she had seen the resemblance between her and her twin upon her first transformation, but to watch Adrien and Marinette believe with all their hearts that _Emma_ was Lucky… It would’ve been disappointing if it wasn’t so freaking funny. Plus, it kept Charlotte’s secret identity tucked away safely.

Her mom and dad approached the topic as a united parental force; tag teaming to show support for their new superhero child.

“I’m really impressed with the new Miraculous users,” her mother said when Emma sat down at the dinner table. “The way they took down the akuma was pretty clever.”

“And I’m just saying, that Chat Noir?” her father continued, “She’s got some good jokes.”

Completely oblivious to her parents’ strange behavior, Emma commented, “Kinda weird that she has a bell around her neck.”

Louis nodded with a quiet smile, as if to say “She’s not wrong.” More importantly, Charlotte watched her parents do a small trouble take. Clearly, they hadn’t planned for their supposed superhero daughter to criticize her own costume design. 

Charlotte couldn’t help but giggle, completely unoffended by her sister’s words. “Yeah, I know you had a bell, Dad--” That was why she’d included it, for the homage to her predecessor. “But it’s kind of weird on a girl.” Oh, calling herself a girl out loud… she could stand to do that again.

“Now, Hugo,” her mother reprimanded. Both she and Adrien were clearly flustered, with their mouths bobbing open and closed as they searched for words. They reminded Charlotte of goldfish, and she openly giggled at the thought.

Louis decided, “Spots is cooler anyway.”

“True!” she agreed. “That lady gets the job done.” Spots was all business all the time, or at least she tried to be. She wouldn’t be by the time Lucky was through with her, if she could help it.

Marinette and Adrien exchanged looks, trying to formulate a plan without speaking. Unfortunately, they were very adept at that, having resided on the same wavelength since before Charlotte was born. This meant they were a united force in steering the conversation to something that wasn’t Parisian superheroes.

They tried to hint that they ‘knew’ to Emma in other ways, on other nights. Whether it was offering her camembert (cheese Charlotte would later steal) to excusing any and all absences (drama rehearsal really did just run that late for leads), their parents did everything they could think of. None of it got through to Emma, because she wasn’t actually Lucky, but it did give Charlotte room to do her superhero duties without suspicion. Continually going over to friends’ houses and spontaneous library trips weren’t nearly as notable as a child carrying on the MIraculous family legacy. Plus, Emma’s utter confusion was _hilarious_ recount to Plagg.

Having a separate life was a godsend. No one questioned if Lucky was a girl. No one looked at her and thought of her as something that made her gut swirl in discomfort and her skin itch with wrongness. Everytime an akuma attacked, Charlotte would snatch the Cat Miraculous out of whatever hidden pocket she’d tucked it away in, and transform into Lucky. Lucky would rush to the scene, speed to the newest puzzle the world had presented her, and face it head on with her partner, Spots.

Spots in herself… Charlotte had never had anyone like her in her life. She could call them friends but… Charlotte had a solid friend group, and her relationships with each of its members were nothing like what Lucky and Spots had. High stress lab partners was probably the most accurate term. Assigned together by fate to work together for a semester as least, if not a year, plus some life-or-death stakes thrown in for flavor. 

Well, that phrasing implied that they weren’t close. They were. Their friendship was just structured in a way her other relationships weren’t. There was a duty to it, a joint goal.

Partnering up with Spots took work on both sides, because they had to _communicate_ and _compromise_ and _rely on each other._ Lucky would be lying if she said it didn’t come naturally, no matter how much effort it took, or if she claimed there was something she’d rather put her energy into. It would also be a lie to say it wasn’t nice to have someone she was irrevocably upbeat and girly and silly with.

“Spots!” Waving with her whole arm, Lucky dashed to meet Spots on the rooftop. At their last akuma battle, they’d decided to start meeting up weekly for check-ins with each other. They could talk strategy, get to know each other outside of fighting villains, and all that fun stuff. Truthfully, Lucky was just excited to hang out with her partner. Today, the two met on top of a building with a jazz club at its base and apartments above.

Spots held up a hand in greeting, far more reserved in her hello. She sat on the edge of the roof, dangling her feet while cars blurred together in the street below. As Lucky joined her on the ledge, she picked at a fingernail.

Ever since noticing the detail, Lucky found it strange that Spots’ costume didn’t have gloves. Every other suit in the last century had hands fully covered (probably as a protection against fingerprinting), but not Spots’. Her hands and a bit of her wrists remained fully exposed at all times. 

“So.....” she started, still fidgeting. “What exactly do we do now?”

Right. The whole check-in idea had been Lucky’s, not really a team decision. So she was meant to lead the conversation.

“Whatever we want!” She shrugged, but a grin covered her face. “Well, not _whatever._ We couldn’t, like, rob a bank. But there aren’t any strict rules to this. We can just talk and hang out.”

“Right...” Spots still looked unsure.

“Here, let me start.” Lucky cleared her throat. “So today, I was looking through all the news on us, because uhhh I’m a vain loser, and I found this one that goes super in depth on all the Miraculous lore.”

Funnily enough, it was written by her Aunt Alya. Actually, considering what seemed like all of her parents’ school friends were ex-Miraculous holders, maybe her interest wasn’t such a surprise. 

“Yeah? What about it?” Spots prodded, unsureness still clear on her face.

Lucky gave a cheery shrug. “I dunno, I just found it really interesting. Did you know Joan of Arc wielded your Miraculous?”

Now that perked her interest. “Really?”

“Yeah!” she grinned. “The whole thing just had a lot of really neat information that I think could help us a lot. Never know what could come in handy.”

Spots stared down at the traffic below, a scrutinizing look in her eye. “If she could write that much, I wonder what else she could know...”

“You gonna find her and ask?” Lucky asked with a laugh.

The setting sun washed the bustling city golden. The sky above them faded from sapphire blue to orchid purple to blushing pink to the very sunrise orange painting the town. Only a spare few people walked the sidewalk beneath their feet, and even fewer cars puttered down the road. From the bricks of the buildings to the glass of the windows to the metal of the cars, all of it was tinted gold.

“Maybe I will.” She spoke not in defiance, but in possibilities.

Lucky turned to her right, and to her wonder, she saw that Spots was golden too.

Spots didn’t mention the article or Alya for a couple weeks. Part of Lucky assumed she’d just dropped the idea, focused on defeating akuma and whatever she did in civilian life, but another knew that this would not be the last of it. That deeper part of herself was proven right when Spots, at another one of their check-ins, brought up how she had visited Alya. 

“It was… nice, actually.” She swung her feet in the open air. “She… she wanted me to give you her number.”

“Ooh, a phone number, you say?” Lucky answered cheerifully enough, but internally she grimaced. Charlotte already had Alya’s number, and, more importantly, Alya had Charlotte’s. Any calls she made as Lucky would instantly reveal her to the woman, which… well it certainly wasn’t what she was going for. If Alya found out, she could tell Lucky’s parents, and then they would _know_ and they would realize she took her father’s Miraculous and then lied about it and they would take away the Miraculous and they would never trust her to be a superhero again and--

“Do you want me to type it into your staff or…?” Spots’ voice slid into her thoughts like a knife, reminding her where she was and who she needed to be.

“Right, right.” Lucky pulled up her weapon’s version of the Notes app and handed it to her partner. 

Spots sat at her right. The bricks of the building they perched on dragged roughly beneath her costume’s gloves. The sound of someone busking on a violin carried on the evening wind. The warm aroma of baking bread drifted from a bakery nearby, she could practically taste it. 

Lucky just wouldn’t use the phone number. And if she had to, she could borrow someone else’s, who would turn down a superhero? Simple.

Spots handed her her staff back. “I put it in the Contacts app. Apparently, our weapons work as phones too.”

Then there was nothing at all to be worried about. Everything was okay.

Lucky only saw Alya once (as Charlotte) before visiting her in the latter’s home, but that didn’t mean she didn’t hear little bits. 

She and Spots did their best to fight the villains on their own. Sometimes, though, they’d meet one too powerful, or too clever, and Spots would phone in some help from Alya. At first it was asking about the Butterfly Miraculous, then wanting to know about the powerups, and finally calling her to help them fight a particularly tough villain. 

Had they not been fighting for hours on end, Lucky might have opposed receiving Rena Rouge’s help out of fear of being recognized, but she had been _so. Tired._ A little bit of identity risk was worth it to go home and take a nap. And she would admit, Rena had been more than helpful. Without her, Lucky wasn’t sure how long they would have been out there. She bolted from the scene after Gigantitan’s defeat anyway, tired and worried and just a little bit more trusting of Alya.

It didn’t help she’d seemed to have grown on Spots’ in all her introverted glory. Whenever Lucky prodded her into talking at one of their check ins, Alya was her go-to subject. It wasn’t always her she talked about, but Alya kept coming up, over and over, far more than anything or anyone else. Spots talked about what she’d learned from texting a question and receiving an essay in return, and she’d even begun regularly visiting in person. She trusted Alya in a way that couldn't help but rub off on Lucky.

It was that trust that led her to visit her aunt not as Charlotte, but as her superhero self.

Her second coming out was only halfway, and not by choice. ‘Outing’ was a more accurate word than ‘coming out.’ Lucky was too readable, said too much, and Alya kept asking question after question after question until she stumbled right past the truth. Because, just like Charlotte’s own parents, Alya saw “Agreste daughter” and jumped to “Emma.” Lucky wanted to rewind the night so she never said anything at all, not even words leading to wrong conclusions. She wanted to break in through the window and scream, “I am _not_ my sister, _dammit.”_ She wanted the truth to not be so inconceivable, she wanted no one to have a clue (not even Plagg), she wanted to be known, she wanted to lock herself back up to never see the light of day again.

Charlotte laid in her bed, wrapped up in her weighted blanket and testing if she could somehow erase the entire world with her mind. Tears sporadically leaked from her eyes, before going bone dry with a feeling of numbness over taking her. She did her best to stay quiet, to not draw the attention of the rest of the house, but it didn’t surprise her when she heard a knock. Gingerly, as if proceeding too fast would set off a landmine, the door creaked open to reveal Louid. It made sense that it was him who heard; their bedrooms were right next to each other.

“Can I come in?”

Charlotte nodded mutely. Louis had brought his comforter with him, and, after closing the door behind him, he wrapped himself up in it to match her own cocoon. He then hopped onto the bed beside her.

“Wanna watch me play Oxen Free?”

“Isn’t that a horror game?”

Neither commented on how the raspy quality of her voice, both fully aware of its origin.

“Just a little. It’s got some cool game mechanics though.”

She gave a wet laugh, before motioning for him to proceed. Louis, still snuggled next to her, pulled out his phone and began to play.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Okay, so I know I should clarify this even though it went largely unnoticed in Tool of Knowledge. The first villain in this au isn't actually one that appears in the series. Canonically, there are victims that we only catch snippets of or never see at all, and she is one of them. Cool? Cool)
> 
> We did it folks, another chapter! I hope you guys are enjoying this. I knew going into this that this wasn't going to get a lot of view, with it being a sequel to an already obscure au not featuring a popular ship or romanced focused at all, so the goal is really for the people who do dive this deep to have a good time. For this week's look into my music taste, today is Freddy Mercury's birthday, so anything by Queen!
> 
> Thanks for reading! Please leave a comment and/or kudos if you enjoyed, it really helps me know that people are interacting and enjoying this story.


	3. Emma

Suffice it to say, Lucky didn’t make any more visits to the Césaire’s as her civilian or superhero self. She didn’t want to deal with Alya’s newfound knowledge until… well, she wasn’t sure what. She didn’t know what kind of event would make talking to Alya so much better. Hopefully, it would jump out at her when it happened. Pretty please. 

While she waited for the world to snap into place, Spots was catching onto her avoidance. Spots would mention something Alya as she was known to do, and Lucky… Lucky just couldn’t summon the same enthusiasm as she used to. Where she had once shown affection for her aunt, now she was only reminded of the volatile knowledge Alya had discovered. She knew the smile she gave wasn’t nearly as genuine as before, knew her stance tensed at her aunt’s mention, but she couldn’t  _ do _ anything to stop it. Anxiety would clench at her chest and it was all Lucky could do to keep up any pretense of happiness. 

Spots didn’t miss all that.

“I was over at Alya’s last night--” Spots trailed off, inspecting Lucky’s expression. “Did… did something happen between you two?”

The two superheroes sat on swings at a deserted public park, only occasionally kicking their legs enough to gain momentum. Lucky did just that to avoid looking at her partner. 

“I went over to her apartment, just once. It didn’t…” She didn’t know how to finish the sentence. Talk too bad and Spots would get too curious, be too ready to go on the offensive (though for whom, Lucky wasn’t sure). Be too nice, and she wouldn’t understand the tension, or think she was being blown off. 

Instead of finishing, Lucky asked, “Has Alya told you anything?”

Spots snorted. “She told me, and I quote, ‘It’s not your business.’”

“...Really?” She’d… she’d kept it a secret? Did Alya know well enough to leave it alone? Maybe, maybe she was more trustworthy than Lucky had… maybe not thought. Worried.

Alya and Nino came over for dinner at the Agrestes soon after, and Charlotte kept her head. It was easier than she thought, with Emma and Louis at her sides and the entire group joking and chatting and enjoying. If Lucky could keep her cool when fighting supervillains, Charlotte could relax enough to tell her sister that Cyrano was basically Pinnochio. 

(The connections were loose but definitely there. Long noses, a thing about word choice, what more could you want? It was definitely enough to pester Emma with.)

When the children excused themselves from the table, Charlotte looped back around to press an ear to the dining room door. Unlike her theft of the Cat Miraculous, her eavesdropping was spontaneous and truly a moment’s decision. Maybe the excessive planning was a good thing, because she hadn’t been caught, while during her listening…

“Hugo? What are you doing?” 

Charlotte jumped at the sound of Emma’s voice. The latter stood around a corner, clearly having turned it to discover Charlotte’s sneaky position. She shushed her sister. “Quiet, they’re talking about the superheroes.”

Now, Emma might not have been a Miraculous user, but like every Parisian kid, she did have an interest in their going-on’s. Plus, with their parents’ insistence that she was Lucky, Emma had extra dibs on eavesdropping on their thoughts. Even if she hadn’t initially realized Adrien and Marinette’s theory, it only took so many offerings of camembert for anyone to figure it out.

She whispered, “Do they still think I’m Lucky, or have we moved past that?”

Motioning her head toward the door, Charlotte invited her sister to join her. As Emma matched her position of pressing her ear against the door, the former answered, “They’re getting to that now.”

The adults’ voices seeped to their waiting ears. Her parents asked about Lucky’s identity twice, though each time they backpedaled to refuse an answer. Even as a weak smile formed on Charlotte’s face, her stomach clenched at the thought of how Alya would respond. Would she tell? She’d already asked so many questions to figure it out, why respect boundaries now? 

Charlotte strained her ears to hear Alya say, “No, I’ll give you that one; it’s not Emma. But ask any more questions and you will get a polite ‘No comment.’””

She….

The conversation floated on, some joke about reporters, but Charlotte wasn’t listening. It seemed Alya wouldn’t… she wasn’t going to say anything. She’d figured it out, even admitted she’d narrowed it down to two people but… she wasn’t going to tell. She wasn’t going to out Charlotte any further.

Now Emma was muttering something, but Charlotte still barely registered it over her own emotions and mind. Alya could tell and her parents wouldn't hear it from her and it was all out of her control and… and… it wasn’t. Alya had put it all back into Charlotte’s hands.

“Finally, maybe now they’ll leave me alone--” Emma was saying, but she halted. “Hugo? You okay?” 

With the heel of her hand, Charlotte swiped away some stray tears. “Can… Can we go to my room? There’s something I want to talk to you about.”

If the power was back in her hands and her hands alone, she planned on using it.

Emma creased her eyebrows but said nothing. Instead, the two crept away from the door and up the staircase. When they reached their destination, she closed the door behind her with a soft ‘thud.’ 

Charlotte liked to keep her room tidy, with all the clothes stacked neatly in drawers or hung up in the closet, books and spare pencils placed just so on her desk, and her blankets and pillows organized on her bed. Her walls were the only exception to this neatness. Blocking out most of the original sky blue paint, various posters, art. and photographs covered them from the top of where her fingers reached to as low as hip height. Charlotte loved her wide stripe of memories, loved taking inspiration from the art and remembering taping each piece up.

The sisters sat with their backs against her bed’s headboard, and as an awkward silence settled into the room, a thought asking if she could do this crossed her mind. She’d never had to use her words before. Telling Plagg was a means to an end, and Alya was out of her control but this… This was the first time she’d done it fully on her own terms. But she wanted to. She wanted to tell Emma this.

“So…” Emma, her voice unsure, prompted. “What’d you want to talk about?”

“Right, umm, I’m… I mean, so, I’m actually--” The words lodged in her throat. “Crap, this is really hard to say.” Charlotte sighed.

It should’ve only been two words, right? Except that they were bigger than any other words she’d ever said before, and not in letter length. Plus, that wasn’t even mentioning how she was a superhero on top of it.

She sucked in a breath through her nose, and pushed it out through her mouth. 

“You know how you look really similar to Lucky?”

Emma gave an exasperated huff. “As if Mom and Dad would let me forget. Though, I guess maybe they will now, after what we heard tonight. Kinda weir-- That’s probably not the point you’re getting at though, I’ll stop.”

Charlotte wanted to laugh at that, but the humor wouldn’t reach her lips. “Have you… have you ever noticed how similar us two look? Like, if my hair was longer, and I had green eyes, we’d look basically the same?”

She watched the confusion muddle her sister’s expression, tugging down her eyebrows and squinting her eyes. “Hugo, what are you trying to-- oh.”

She ducked her head to stare at her fidgeting fingers. “Yeah.”

“So you’re--?”

“Mmhmm.”

Peeking over to scan for a reaction, Charlotte saw Emma blink once, then twice. Did she get it? Was she okay with it? Did she care? Did she believe her?

Emma spoke slowly as she processed. “So if you’re… if you’re Lucky--” She glanced at Charlotte to confirm she had it right, and the latter nodded. “--Why is Lucky a girl? Is this to keep Mom and Dad off your back, or are you…?”

The question scuttled over Charlotte’s skin, applied pressure at her seams to peel her open. She was almost there, just one more confirmation, and it would all be out there. Steepling her hands and pressing the digits to her lips, Charlotte’s voice stayed steady when she said,  _ “I’m _ a girl.”

“Oh.” 

“Surprise.”

Now, it was Emma taking her in as if for the first time. Charlotte pinned her eyes on a printed selfie taped to the opposite wall. The two posed backstage in full costume and makeup at their first theater production. It had been Charlotte’s last; she couldn’t even remember the title, but Emma would know. Emma loved being on stage and putting on a show for everyone to see. 

She tried and failed to speak, with nothing coming from her lips, once before succeeding. “Hugo--” Emma winced at her own words. “Ah, you probably don’t want me to call you that anymore.”

When she placed a hand on her forearm, Charlotte turned toward her sister. Emma continued, “You know that I love you, right? You being yourself won’t change that.”

She pulled Charlotte into a hug, and it only took one squeeze for the latter to melt into it. It was okay. Charlotte had done it; she’d found the words, and it was okay.

A sniffle escaped her nose, causing Emma to groan. “Aw, don’t do that. I will love you regardless of gender, but I draw the line at hearing you sniffle.”

Charlotte gave a wet laugh. “Sorry, this is the first time I’ve done this properly. Plagg just kinda found out by proxy, and Aunt Alya figured out that Lucky is either me or Louis, but it’s still really new. Having people know.”

Though she didn’t remove her arms, Emma pulled back from the hug to smile at her. “Yeah, walk me through this. Do you have a name picked out? How’d you know? You’ve been Lucky this entire time? And  _ Alya _ knew before I did??”

“Charlotte.” She chose the first question to answer. “My name… I like Charlotte.”

Emma tested, “Charlotte…. Yeah, I like it. It suits you.” Then, she grinned, mischief twinkling in her green eyes. “Charlotte, I believe it should’ve been  _ you _ getting offered all that cheese.”

A laugh burst out of Charlotte. “I have to admit, it has been pretty funny watching Mom and Dad be  _ convinced _ it’s you while I just casually take camembert from the fridge. Plagg thinks it’s hilarious.”

Emma’s eyes widened in realization. “Plagg! You have Plagg! Can I see him?” she exclaimed.

Standing, Charlotte trotted over to her backpack and plucked the Cat Miraculous from a small internal pocket. When she slipped it onto her finger, Plagg zipped out of it in a ball of light.

After taking a couple seconds to take in the situation, he began to speak immediately, “Hey, Emma! It’s been a while, huh? Wow, it’s nice to see you. Maybe you can hand off some of that camembert your parents have been giving ya.” He settled into floating above their heads as Charlotte settled back into her spot next to her sister.

Emma rolled her eyes fondly. She held out her hand to scratch Plagg on the head. “It’s nice to see you too. I missed you.”

He pressed into the touch, but said nothing to acknowledge the motion. “Yeah, yeah, who wouldn’t?”

Snuggled on her bed, watching her sister and kwami reunite, chatting softly with nothing but the truth between them, Charlotte let the world outside her room meltaway. Instead, she felt herself soak up the moment into her skin. Maybe this was what it was all about. 

Plagg had her back since the moment she slipped on the ring. The chaotic kwami viewed the experience as a new prevention of boredom, saying “life is about being comfortable; if this makes you comfortable, then that’s what you should be doing.” Even when he thought fighting akumas was high maintenance, Plagg never questioned if that was what she was meant to be doing. 

Emma had her back too. She offered to disappear from their parents’ view any time an akuma attacked to blur the lines of Lucky’s identity, though Charlotte turned her down because Alya had already confirmed her no-Miraculous status. She didn’t stop pushing to help her in other ways, whether it was covering for her disappearances or just calling her the right name when they were alone. Charlotte did her best to return the favor: packing her extra snacks on long rehearsal days and guaranteeing her time to see Plagg. Maybe the increased familiarity would have been more noticeable if they hadn’t already been close.

Alya… Alya hadn’t turned her back on Charlotte either. She’d protected her identity, not just one time but twice. Maybe her investigative mind worked faster than her restraint, but… she’d done her best in the end, when it really counted.

Charlotte was empowered by this thought when she returned to the Césaire apartment a week later. 

When Alya arrived that evening, after Lucky settled near an open window for easy exit, she called out for Spots. Lucky would be lying if she said that hadn’t sparked her curiosity, though it quickly fizzled away upon Alya spotting her. Alya… Alya  _ apologized _ to her. She hadn’t expected that. Lucky had thought she’d want to breeze past the mistake, or give a quick “sorry” and move on. She’d expected cashing in on her presumed forgiveness and leaving the topic to the dust. But Alya didn’t mince her words; she said those actions had been her own and they had been wrong. 

Lucky knew she had made the right decision in coming back.

The night ended with Alya giving her some… well, it wasn’t so much advice as it was a guarantee. A promise that someday, she would be both Charlotte and Lucky, but until then, Alya would only know her as a superhero. A promise of growth and safety. 

Lucky would be ready someday to live that reality, and she couldn’t wait to be there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all I have to confess the Emma coming out scene has been written like four different times as I continually drafted works where I tried to fit it in and bullet drafts for those full works. I think you guys are getting the best version of it, and I'm happy with how it turned out in the end.
> 
> Today's music recommendation is 100 Gecs. I have yet to hear a single song, and apparently all their songs are pretty weird, but my girlfriend and other best friend like their music, so have a taste of their music taste.
> 
> Thanks for reading!! If you feel so inclined, please leave a comment telling me your thoughts!


	4. Nino

Lucky didn’t tell Spots about her conversation with Alya. Neither of them, not her initial outing or their amends, for that matter. From what she could tell, Alya didn’t tell her either. That didn’t mean Spots didn’t know, however. She’d picked up that their relationship had taken a turn for the worse, so it was only reasonable that she’d figure it out when that rough spot had been at least somewhat smoothed over. Spots definitely knew it when Lucky began to ask for more details on her visits to the Césaire’s. 

“So you just… go over and play board games? After making and eating dinner?” she questioned on a Friday evening. They were on another rooftop, a different one every week. 

Spots nodded. “Yeah. We talk Miraculous stuff a lot, but not always.”

Lucky hummed in acknowledgement. 

“Are you thinking about joining?” she asked. 

Spots was a quiet hero. Her drive to save the day kept her focused and on task, a system that didn’t leave much leeway for casual chatter. Jokes and lightheartedness were Lucky’s side of the partnership anyway. Where the quiet left empty space, observation grew and soaked up the room. Spots was a degree more tuned in with reality than the rest of the world. 

Shrugging, Lucky answered, “I probably wouldn’t be there for dinner. Civilian life and all that.”

“I’d--  _ We’d _ like that a lot.” Spots glanced down at her knees and resolutely away from her partner’s face. “The you making it, not you missing-- you know what I mean.”

Lucky gave a small laugh. “I do.”

Regardless of how well tuned into reality she was, it was clear Spots didn’t expect Lucky’s sensationalized entrance. Now, Charlotte may not have been a theater kid like her sister Emma, but that didn’t mean Lucky couldn’t be prone to dramatic flare when transformed.

Before she could make her entrance at the Césaire apartment, however, Charlotte had to give her excuses back home. As her mother collected dirtied plates in the dining room, she siddled up alongside her. “Heyyy, Moooom,” she said, drawing out each syllable.

Marinette narrowed her eyes in playful suspicion. “Yesssss, Huuuugoooo?”

“So, I just got a text from this new kid at school. We have a test in math tomorrow, and she is kinda freaking out because apparently they taught this part super badly at her old school. So she was wondering if I could meet her at the library to give her a crash course?” Now, there  _ was _ a new kid in Charlotte’s class (Annie? Was that her name?), but other than that, this entire lie was bull. Of course, that was what made it a lie. That’s what made her feel guilty, what made her nervous about being caught.

Her mother considered. “Can you be back by 8:30? I don’t want you out once it’s gotten dark.”

If only her mother knew about the nights she’d snuck out to meet Spots and fight villains. “Sounds good.” She finger gunned. It was what, 6:30 now? Two hours was plenty of time. 

Right when Charlotte began to walk out of the room, her mother called, “Forgetting something?”

She froze, foot still hovering above the ground. “W- what?”

“Don’t you need your math book?” Marinette’s voice came out as fond and confused.

Charlotte couldn’t drag her stare away from the door frame, realizing what she had almost done, how she’d almost foiled her plan before it could start. “Haha. That’s right. I left it on the floor over here. Whoops.” 

Yikes. There was a reason Emma was the actress of the family. Improv was not Charlotte’s strong suit. Still, she turned around and grabbed her textbook from the wooden dining room floor and generally tried to ignore her mother’s questioning gaze. 

Charlotte took the subway to Alya’s neighborhood. Although she had a pole vaulting baton at her disposal, public transportation was a much less sweaty, much easier way of travel.

Besides, she’d always been fond of the subway. Lying beyond the crampedness and the germs and the slight smell, the thrill of a quest awaited. The maze of tunnels was a puzzle, one she could solve by determining a path and taking charge of her own destiny. Even if that destiny was just getting off at a station to walk the rest of the way. 

The first train was quiet, with only Charlotte and a spare few others in the car. The rails thrummed beneath them, and the walls zoomed past. A few rows ahead of her sat a goth man scrolling on his phone. She wondered what he was looking at: social media, a text from a friend, a news article, or something else. When he shifted to look across the aisle, a blue, pink, and white pin attached to his jacket flickered into view. Her breath caught, if only for a moment, when she realized he was like her. In what felt like seconds later, the platform slid into view, and they had to leave each other. Charlotte didn’t say anything, and he didn’t acknowledge her, but she wouldn’t forget him. 

It was on the second of her two trains where Charlotte spotted a familiar face. Next to the only open seat in the car sat… New Kid. Anna? Annie? Wasn’t there a second part to her name? Or maybe that had just been her last name. She didn’t mind standing, but if it was an excuse to get to know the new student….

“You mind if I sit here?”

New Kid glanced up, wariness crossing her face. She was bundled up in a dark blue cotton coat but lacked gloves or a bag. A black ponytail ring pulled back her cropped blonde hair. Just a girl on the subway. 

The girl on the subway shook her head slightly. “Go for it.”

Now Charlotte sat next to her, clutching her math book in her lap. 

The subway rumbled to life around them, and off they went. As they chugged off into the dark tunnel, the platform slipped away from sight. Fluorescent lights washed out everything in the car, painting both her textbook and New Kid’s coat with a film of eggshell. Besides the car’s grumbling, the room was silent, and awkwardness itched at Charlotte like a t-shirt tag.

So she said, “What’s your name again?”

New Kid folded her arms, tucking away her exposed hands. “Anne Marie.”

So she’d been close! Slight victory!

“Anne Marie, I like it,” Charlotte repeated. “I’m Hugo.”

There would be a day where she could introduce herself as “Charlotte,” but that day was not today. For now, she just had to let the discomfort wash over and off of her like gray slime. 

Lips pressed together, Anne Marie nodded slowly. “Cool.”

The conversation halted once more, much to Charlotte’s dismay. 

“Where are you heading?” she prodded.

Anne Marie rolled her shoulders in an uncomfortable stretch. “I’m, uh, visiting a friend.” She stopped there and, after a moment of silence, realized that etiquette placed the ball in her court. “You?”

“Oh, you know. Visiting my… well, it’s complicated.” The vague truth fell off her tongue, and Charlotte wasn’t quite sure why it did, or why she continued. “I told my parents I was helping someone study at the library, hence  _ this _ \--” She gestured toward her math book. “--but, that’s-- I’m not-- I’m going to meet someone.”

With a smirk, Anne Marie replied, “Don’t worry, I won’t tell anyone about your secret bad girl girlfriend.”

“What-- no that’s not it at all! I swear, I mean--” Charlotte sputtered, slamming a hand to her forehead. “Fuck, that panic probably makes me look like ten times more guilty.”

“Just a little.” She gave a small laugh, amused by her embarrassment.

Still, Charlotte waved her hands as she rushed to clear her name. “I just-- my parents know the person, alright? They’re actually really good friends with her; she’s basically my aunt. But the reasons why I’m visiting her, that’s, that’s the secret. Hence the lie.” She glanced at her seatmate, as if to say  _ “Get it?” _

Anne Marie stared back at her, mouth parted and eyebrows crinkled ever so slightly. “I-- yeah. I think I get that.” 

“Yeah?” Charlotte was pretty sure they were the only people in the car, no, in the world at that moment. She wasn’t sure what chord she’d just struck with the new girl, but it felt like a good one.

Anne Marie nodded once, then twice, then a third time. “Yeah.” Her face tensed in consideration before she continued. “Would you want to take a picture together? So you can send it to your parents and pretend I’m the person you were meeting?”

Charlotte blinked. “That would be awesome! Thank you so much!” She dug her phone out of her pants pocket and slid over to the camera app. “Say ‘cheese!’”

Anne Marie matched Charlotte’s grin with a slight wave and small smile of her own, and as she snapped the photo, the subway pulled into the station. When the doors slid open, the car’s occupants began shuffling out into the rest of the world. 

It was time to leave.

The two teens trailed out with the rest of the passengers. Through the turnstiles, up the stairs, out onto the street. Side by side. Charlotte waited for Anne Marie to turn away, for them to part ways and take their own separate journeys, but she didn’t. Which… was actually a problem, because Charlotte needed to transform.

When they found themselves at a crosswalk, one Anne moved to cross, she halted. “I’m turning here, actually. I’ll see you at school?”

Anne Marie started to say something before simply nodding.

So Charlotte waited for the crosswalk man to light up at her left, waited for some distance between her and her acquaintance to form. Anne Marie disappeared into all the other people in what felt like seconds, and then the lights switched, and she was crossing in a different direction. 

Okay, Step One: Find somewhere private to transform. Charlotte wandered down the tight streetways, going wherever there were less people. It took less time than she thought it would to find an empty street with a deserted alley branching off of it. Slipping the Cat Miraculous out of a hidden pocket sewn into the pants cuff and onto her finger, she watched Plagg spin out of the ring in a burst of light.

“Hey, kid, you got any cheese?” he said by way of a greeting.

“You’ll get your cheese afterward, right now it’s time to go.” Charlotte just chuckled.

Groaning, Plagg lamented this development. “I do soooo much for you and I don’t even get fed, what a shame.”

New laughter burst from her chest. “Plagg--” A snort. “--Claws out.”

Lime light sizzled around her body; the pure energy cleared out all her street clothes and wove together Lucky around her. Her eyes blinked green, and her hair swept down low, and a little bell jingled at her neck. When the glow faded away, the adrenaline didn’t, and Lucky pole vaulted to the roofs above.

Step Two: Travel. She marked the streets below to navigate to Alya’s home, occasionally checking a map on her baton’s tiny screen. The city looked so different from above, and she’d already wandered away from the most direct path. After ten minutes of leaping and backtracking and sprinting, Lucky spotted her destination. 

Step Three: Ditch her math book. Although she’d hoped to hide it on a flat rooftop near the apartment complex, it seems this area had fully committed to the triangular prism top look. That wasn’t very convenient. Quite rude of the builders to not predict her exact need to hide a textbook decades before she was even born. 

Hopping from roof to roof, Lucky wandered in search of a dumping ground. She needed somewhere people wouldn’t look, where it wouldn’t be reached, where it wouldn’t get dirty. That balcony could have people on it, that awning was too steep, those chimneys-- might work.

Lucky leapt from several rooftops over to the building where a pair of twin brick chimneys extended. She set her textbook between them, so it stood like a very tilted novel on a shelf. Perfect, that should hold.

She glanced down at her baton and-- Crap, was it seven already? That travel time was longer than she thought. Whenever her family visited the Césaire apartment, it felt like a snap. However those trips were by car, and she also didn’t have to find a hiding place for her math book. More importantly, her waning time meant Lucky had no time to waste.

Since she knew her route and wasn’t just wandering, it took no time at all to get to Alya’s building, which stood across the street. She gave herself a running start before vaulting across the gap into the open air. With a clear blue sky above her and the entirety of Paris around her, Lucky landed on the gabled roof top. The world was large and open and hers for the taking. A second later, she was lowering herself to the third story dining room window and pushing it open. 

Words tumbled out of her mouth before she could even properly take in the scene. “Sorry for missing dinner, but I had another family dinner to attend.”

As Lucky plopped herself in an empty chair, she saw Spots, Alya, and Nino stood over the sink in the connected kitchen. All three had various forms of shock on their faces, which she couldn’t help but laugh at internally. She feigned apology. “I know you were expecting me--” Blatantly false, only Spots had known, but even she didn’t know when. Of course, that was part of the improvised joke, so maybe she should join Emma in doing theater after all. Maybe  _ Lucky _ should join while Charlotte cheered from the sidelines. “--but I could never miss family dinner. If I even suggested it without explanation, my parents would instantly know I was leading a double life, that’d be it.”

Now Nino was cracking a smile, and Alya’s mouth was agape in pleasant surprise, and Spots was-- Spots was  _ laughing _ . 

It should have been weird to see someone in full superhero garb washing dishes in a homey apartment, especially posed next to two adults in plain clothes. Maybe it would have been, had she not looked so carefree and gleeful in that moment of laughter. 

“I knew you said you would be visiting soon--” She snorted. “But you didn’t say--” Her giggling took her hostage, preventing her from speaking and forcing her to clench her stomach in her arms. 

Nino was grinning widely, like the gleaming sun. He said, “We’re glad to have you here.”

“And I am glad to be here, mister…?” Lucky’s voice trailed off with a question. Just because Alya knew who she was, didn’t mean he had to as well. It was better to keep up the pretense of being strangers.

“Nino Césaire.” He set down his washcloth and plate to wave at her. “But you can just call me Nino. I’m Alya’s husband.”

While they spoke, Spots was doing her best to calm down, and Alya had paused her dish drying to get the teen a glass of water.

Lucky rambled a bit more, searching for banter to fan the conversation. “Fantastic to meet you! Now, because I am enigma wrapped in a mystery, I would just like to assure you I am the superhero Lucky, and not some common cat burglar.”

Nino sighed playfully. “I was waiting for the puns to kick in, but I had hoped I had more time.” 

“You wish.” She stuck her tongue out.

The night continued on like that. Lucky had known coming to the apartment meant bonding with Alya, but she hadn’t predicted the easy banter with Nino. Of course, Charlotte had known Nino as her family friend/uncle, talked one-on-one with him before but… she wasn’t quite sure why she hadn’t thought Lucky could be close with him too. Maybe it was all the drama with Alya; she’d been so fixated on that relationship, she’d forgotten to consider another. 

Nino was softer than his wife, all smooth shielding edges to deflect attacks where she was willing to cut up her own to protect those she cared about. That didn’t mean he wasn’t willing to joke and sass with Lucky, but he still was who he was as a person. It felt easy to make jokes with him, to feel close to him, to come out to him.

Neither Alya nor Spots was there that evening, with the former going out with Lucky’s mother and the latter off participating in her civilian life. If Alya and Lucky’s one-on-one nights were rare, then Nino and Lucky’s one-on-one nights were unheard of. Still, the evening was comfortable, full of banter and an escape room in a box. 

Nino didn’t press her about her identity; he never pressed her about anything. She brought it up on her own after asking him about his time as the Turtle Miraculous wielder.

“I loved every second of it,” he answered. “I loved protecting the people I cared about, keeping everyone safe. It was nice to shield them like that.”

They shared the couch in the living room, the escape room in a box finished but still splayed out on the coffee table.

“My parents--” Lucky started but immediately halted. When conversation came so easily and she’d known him since birth, it was easy to forget that Nino didn’t know she was someone else he knew. There was no way to share her story without disclosing that particular detail. And with her back pressed against the squishy green throw pillow and hot chocolate in her hands, Lucky realized she could.

“My parents have said similar things about wielding Miraculouses.”

Nino didn’t react visibly, just took a sip from his own mug. He might have hummed beneath his breath. 

“When I found out Miraculouses could mess with your hair length, I borrowed my dad’s Miraculous,” she continued. Each sentence was another handful of crumbs, forming a bread trail to her goal.

He paused a little at the second development but continued to say nothing. 

“I found out… I found out it could change a lot more than just my hair. I like how I look better when I’m Lucky.” She ducked her head to drink her own hot chocolate. For once, her mind stilled. Lucky didn’t worry about his reaction, whether she should’ve spoken in the first place, or anything at all. Nino was sitting near her, and she had hot chocolate to drink, and that was enough.

He nodded one time, then another. “What have your parents said about their reasons for becoming superheroes? Everyone’s is so personal, they’re always so interesting to hear.”

So she told him. And that was that. They moved on to discuss Miraculouses and motives and whatever else came to mind, and Lucky sipped her hot chocolate. Now, Nino had been invited in on the truth. Everything was the same, but just a little better. She smiled into her mug.

Lucky and Spots didn’t meet up one-on-one nearly as often now. Those hang outs were largely replaced with nights at the Césaire household, but they weren’t completely obsolete. Lucky still made the effort to have time with just her partner because… well, she wasn’t sure why. But every time the opportunity to spend time with Spots arose, excitement built in her chest, and she couldn’t help but snatch it up. 

At the very least, it meant Lucky could speak openly about her brother. Oh sure, she couldn’t mention names or anything too specific to Spots, but when Alya and Nino were in earshot, she risked telling a story about Louis that her parents had already told them. That would be an instant identity giveaway, no thanks.

“--So his most recent game has been  _ Firewatch, _ though he’s not very far yet. He likes to complain that in the prologue, it gives you no chance but to treat your wife at least a little bit badly, but he’s getting past it.” Lucky kept rambling, only half understanding what she spoke about. It was all secondhand from Louis’ own tangents.

The two superheroes sat on a set of swings, occasionally kicking their legs for momentum. Frankly, she was a little surprised the green park didn’t have more occupants, but maybe the darkening sky and looming school day scared them off. It was just the two of them, Spots and Lucky, speaking into the evening. 

Spots listened intently, and though she tried to hide it, Lucky still noticed how often she glanced over to watch her face. 

“--That’s about all I’ve gathered so far.” Lucky did her own glance at her partner. “What about you? You never really talk about your family, what are they into?”

Now, she didn’t have anyone to make this bet with, but Lucky was ninety percent sure Spots didn’t have any siblings. From her insistence that she didn’t know how to handle children (a seriously inaccurate belief) to her very independent nature, Spots checked a variety of the boxes. As much as Lucky did genuinely want to hear about Spots’ life, she also couldn’t quell her curiosity on the subject.

Spots wrapped her arms around her swing’s ropes, gripped them tight in her fists. Her voice came out a step above soft when she spoke. “My mother likes to collect mugs. She has this huge shelf of them, all with really funky designs or funny messages on them. She gets... really mad if she even thinks I touched them, she cares about them so much.”

“Man, talk about attached.” Lucky let out a laugh. “I can’t imagine my parents ever doing that.” She gasped as she remembered a story. “This one time, when I was little, I dropped one of our bowls, and it shattered all over the ground.”

“Were you okay?” Spots asked with a snort, balancing concern and humor.

She snapped a hand into a finger gun. “Not a scratch on me, I was just that powerful.”

With a shake of her head, Spots giggled again.

Lucky couldn’t help but smile at that. She’d gotten Spots to laugh! Well, that wasn’t too uncommon of an occurrence, but a glimpse of pride still bubbled in her chest. “But anyways, I was kinda freaking out because ‘oh god, I broke this bowl and am surrounded by broken porcelain, what am I going to do,’ when my dad walks into the kitchen and instantly figures out what happened. And I’m like, ‘Oh no, I’ve been caught, I’m a criminal going to jail’ but he just scoops me out of the carnage and tells me he was a little bit impressed I managed to break the bowl, because they’ve gotta land just right.”

Spots was still laughing, but a mystified look crossed her face. “Wait, so you just weren’t in trouble? You broke a whole bowl?”

“I mean, it  _ was _ just a bowl.” The words came out a little awkwardly. Sure, it was a funny story, but because her dad’s thought process hadn’t been to comfort her, but to congratulate her on dropping the bowl just right. Not because the alternative could have been an angry parent. “And I was like, nine, what are you gonna do?”

Pausing, Spots rubbed at her left forearm. “Right.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No one:  
> Me: What if,,,, Charlotte and Anne Marie bonded as not-superheroes
> 
> Guys I'm gonna be real, it's been a rough two weeks. This chapter's a little later than I normally publish, I know. My... my girlfriend and I broke up last week. We're still best friends, I haven't lost her, which is important to me. She just wasn't vibing with the romance portion, so we decided to cut it. (And I can say "we" cuz I was the one to bring it up.) I just... wasn't in the right headspace to be able to write this fic. 
> 
> Thank you guys for your patience. The next chapter will be a tad later than normal (though hopefully not as late as this one) because I pushed this one out without finishing the next and I need to recreate that buffer, but it Will be coming. I promise. As for this chapter's music rec, I think I gotta go Sailor Moon's theme song, because that show is my comfort show and it helped me feel better.


	5. Interlude

Maybe Charlotte should have minded more when Hawkmoth sent out an akuma. Maybe, when the akuma alert app dinged at her phone, she should have felt more annoyed at having her day interrupted. Instead, her heart took to drumming, and her legs thrummed with adrenaline beneath her. It wasn’t hard, per se, to maintain a calm appearance outwardly, to make her excuses and escape with no visible urgency. More accurately, the energy made it easier to stay focused on her task of getting out and to the villain. 

Once Charlotte became Lucky, however, she let the excitement pour out of her. Tracking villains wasn’t always an easy task, but she’d learned the shortcuts and tricks to the trade. Glance through the akuma alert app, check for any news reporting the villain’s movement, head toward the ruckus. Upon finding her target, Lucky kept low, observing before attacking. If she could determine their motives, their attacks, possible akuma hiding spots; she was better prepared when Spots appeared on the scene. When necessary, Lucky would hold the villain off from attacking civilians, but typically she arrived with the plan of recon first, battle later. Once Spots did find her way to the fight, Lucky would update her on her discoveries. Though she was rarely the one to determine the final defeat plan, she discovered the little mysteries, and that was information crucial to Spots’ final solve.

Even when she wasn’t Lucky, Charlotte’s brain lingered on her Miraculous activities. From the weighted feeling of leaping above streets to the whir of problem solving, the sensations wrapped around her mind like a humming blanket. Cozy, but bursting with energy.

When not considering her own emotions surrounding superherodom, Charlotte wondered about Monarch Moth and their victims. Villains attacks didn’t happen nearly as often as she’d always assumed from her parents’ talk, so she had more time that she would’ve liked to patrol and ponder. One persistent thought was the villain Rena had helped fight. Gigantitan had been so young in comparison to the other akumatized, why was that? Why did Monarch Moth want to send out their evil butterflies anyway? She supposed afterwards people typically discussed their emotions more openly (because they’d been blown out of proportion for the entire city to see), so maybe it was some weird argument of catharsis? 

Alya seemed to share her frustration, though she expressed it far more than the teenager did. Nino, Spots, Alya, and Lucky lounged around the dinner table,  _ Chronology _ cards splayed in front of them. Even amongst all the chatter involved within the game, they maintained a separate, distracted conversation. Each turn took forever because of this, but no of them could find it within themselves to mind.

As Spots read off a card to Nino, Lucky decided to joke, “It’s a good thing Monarch Moth still hasn’t shown their face, because if they did, every Parisian would legally have the right to deck them on the spot.”

Alya ran an angry hand through her hair, groaning. “Seriously? Have they still done nothing?”

Lucky had picked up a lot about the previous Miraculous battles from her parents, so she knew as firsthand as someone her age could know that Hawkmoth and Mayura never hid their goal. Oh sure, the  _ motive _ was secret, but the former had stated from day one that he wanted the Ladybug and Cat Miraculouses. However, as much as she wanted Monarch Moth to be as upfront as Hawkmoth, it really did make more strategic sense to keep that under wraps. Lucky asked cautiously, “Are they supposed to have?”

Sputtering, Alya let out a frustrated sigh. “Yes! What’s their motive? Why are they making akumas? There has to be a reason!” 

This hadn’t been the first time she’d vented similar annoyances, but it was definitely the peak of it. Lucky, though she agreed on some level, wasn’t quite sure how to vocalize that semi-support.

Spots glanced at her and read her in an instant. Lucky wasn’t sure how she did that, but Spots didn’t hesitate before hopping in herself. “And if there isn’t?”

While Alya groaned out her own response, Lucky considered that question. If there wasn’t a motive… how could there not be a motive? How could there not be a goal in akumatizing people? What could be the purpose of hurting so many people without reward?

Or maybe the harm was the reward.

“There’s lots of possibilities for motives that don’t require announcing,” Lucky realized aloud. Nino looked at her curiously, already tuning in to hear what could be. “It could be that their goal requires stealth. Or maybe they’re really into superheroes and wanted to bring them back. It could even be that they’re just some sicko who wants to hurt people, and it’s not deeper than that.”

Eyes focused on her, a newfound appreciation gleaming in them, Alya nodded. “You’re right,” she admitted, sighing. “Hawkmoth spoiled us by being that upfront.”

“Well, I wasn’t the one to say it.” Lucky laughed a little at that, splaying her hands in mock apology. Nino and Alya jokingly objected, but she was already sobering up. Her pent up frustration slipped over her like a too-small onesie. “Would be nice if they were more direct though, I don’t like not knowing.”

Spots nodded at that. “If we knew what they wanted, we could get to the root instead of just taking it as it comes.”

“Wouldn’t that be nice.” Lucky smiled wistfully. 

“We’ll figure it out.” Nino’s voice broke into the conversation. “And when we do, we’ll move from there.” 

It had been a much younger version of Charlotte that proposed to her parents that she should take fencing lessons. After hearing one too many anecdotes and two too many demonstrations from her father, she’d become fascinated with what she saw as modern sword fighting. She wanted to sword fight! She wanted to defeat the bad guys with her blade and save the princess and everything else knights did!

Her dad had been reluctant at first, and elementary school Charlotte hadn’t understood why. He kept insisting that she didn’t have to do anything just because he’d done it as a kid, she should only join clubs if  _ she _ wanted to be in them. And she kept telling him back that she really did want to do fencing. After what felt like decades of pestering, Charlotte stood, bundled up in her uniform, in the private gym of one of her parents’ friends. 

“Hello.” 

Her teacher had a severe face, stiff posture, and stiff movements. She wore her fencing uniform they way lawyers wear their suits: pristine beyond measure and with the goal to impress.

“My name is Kagami Tsurugi. You will address me as Ms. Tsurugi when we are in this room.”

Ms. Tsurugi paced in front of Charlotte, slow as a eulogy.

“I am a world famous fencer. I have taken gold internationally, including at the Olympics. My family contains a long line of acclaimed fencers.”

She turned 180 degrees, strode the other way.

“Suffice to say, I know what I speak of when I instruct you. You will do well to remember this when you get frustrated.”

She ceased her walking and turned to face Charlotte head on.

“Now.” A sharp grin grew on her face. “Let us begin.”

Ms. Tsurugi was a direct woman, a severe woman, but once Charlotte learned to trust and care for. When she entered the Salle, there were expectations, sure, but there was an aura of focused safety. In that room, only fencing mattered, nothing else.

The teacher’s instructions came in the form of orderly commands to adjust.

“Stay light on your feet.”

“Strike quick and where it matters.”

“Be aware of your opponent.”

Between stretches and practice bouts, Ms. Tsurugi wasn’t all business. She told stories and gave what life advice she had.

“You’re distracted,” she declared after tagging Charlotte for what felt like the thirtieth time that session. Crossing to the edge of the room, Ms. Tsurugi discarded her weapon to take a sip from her water bottle.

Charlotte followed her teacher and, leaning against the wall, got her own drink. “I’ve just been--” She considered how to best allude to her superhero status without revealing it. “--Busy,” she decided.

Ms. Tsurugi’s face gave no reaction; she just continued to drink. 

“I’ve been tutoring a new kid at my school,” she elaborated, though Charlotte wasn’t entirely sure why. She’d gone from a vague truth to a full lie. “It’s a lot more difficult than I thought it would be.” But it was the lie she gave to everyone, and maybe that meant it counted less. At the very least, she was keeping her story consistent.

Switching out her water bottle for her saber, Ms. Tsurugi tilted her head in question. “And why is that? You’re a sharp kid, I would expect teaching lessons you understand to come easy.”

“I don’t always understand the stuff myself,” she admitted. Thinking of Anne Marie, how she’d offered to stand in for the new kid in need of tutoring, Charlotte continued with her lie/analogy. “She’s my grade, so it’s new information to the both of us. I just understand it well enough most of the time to help her catch up with class.” Because that was Lucky’s role in her partnership with Spots. She may not have been able to Lucky Charm her way to victory, but she could analyze each villain and explain to Spots what she’d learned. Then, they would both win in the end.

Ms. Tsurugi hummed in consideration. “So is the information itself distracting you from our lessons?”

“I-- no,” Charlotte realized. “It’s not the individual bits of information. Those-- Those are enjoyable to learn and teach. It’s the actual teachers. They assign all this work, and none of us students understand why.” Because it was the overarching problem of Monarch Moth that bothered her. When would they next attack? What did they want from Paris?

“That does not sound pleasant,” Ms. Tsurugi said. “Have you considered confronting your teachers? Demanding a difference in behavior or at least an explanation for their curriculum?”

Charlotte gave a laugh. The idea that finding Monarch Moth was as easy as knowing their office hours… If only. “They’re, uhh, a little hard to track down.”

“I see. I wish you luck with solving this dilemma.” The fencing master pursed her lips then picked up Charlotte’s own weapon to hold it out to her. “Are you sufficiently hydrated enough to continue?”

With a nod, she took the offered handle. “Always.”

When Charlotte’s father dropped her off at school from her dentist appointment, she barely started walking toward the entrance when the sky filled with shadow.

A few years ago, there’d been a full solar eclipse that her mother had insisted the entire family drive for two hours in order to get the best view. It’d been very exciting and pretty and all, to watch the moon shadow the sun, but it had also been very, very slow. The total of ten minutes of eclipse was not the non-stop action fighting villains was by any stretch of imagination. 

This… this wasn’t like an eclipse. The city dimmed the way a theater did at the beginning of a performance: fading away quickly and only a bare few electric lights remaining to spotlight the action. In no time at all, Charlotte could’ve sworn the world had reverted to nighttime. 

A second later, a pouring  _ something _ hit her head. She jumped forward, spinning around with arms raised. Two eyefuls of grainy, crunchy  _ stuff _ greeted her sclera, and when Charlotte tried to scream, it slipped into her mouth. She was falling to the ground, hands scraping against her face, trying desperately to get  _ it _ out, trying to  _ breathe. _

She sputtered, coughing and inhaling more of  _ it _ in the process, but… no more  _ stuff _ was coming down, she realized. The bombardment of  _ it _ had moved on, it seemed.

The cement was rough beneath her knees, and her hands stung from the fall. Nothing was attacking. She was safe on the ground. She needed to swipe the whatever the hell  _ it _ was away. 

Starting with her mouth, Charlotte began to do so. Once she could breath without taking in grainy particles with it, she took her sleeves and began carefully cleaning out her eyes. They stung, and though tears did leak from them, it wasn’t emotions that upset her, just prickling pain. 

It hurt when she pried her eyes open. After blinking away the light difference, Charlotte noted the puddle of sand surrounding her. She was blinking away  _ sand, _ tasting  _ sand. _ It trailed ahead of her in a spotty line and went on as far as she could see. Something, or more accurately someone, was pouring sand from the sky.

That was an akumatized villain if she ever saw one. 

A bell clanged behind her. Oh right, Charlotte was meant to be going to school. Saving her from debating how to best get out of her civilian responsibilities, the front doors swung open, and a crowd of jittery looking students and teachers alike threw themselves outside. When people just kept coming and coming, parting around her in their quest to escape, she realized the entire school was evacuating. Well, guess that solved her school attendance problem. Now just slip a lie about being caught up in the attack itself later to her parents, and Charlotte was good to go. 

Pushing through the crowd, she slid a hand into her back pocket and fiddled with a familiar ring. This called for masking up.

A minute later, Lucky found herself on the empty streets of Paris. Now, what exactly was this sand’s deal? She tried to think through the problem, put together what she knew. Because it was never just sand when Miraculouses were involved. She approached a pool of it in the gutter and poked it with her baton. At her prodding, the pile shriveled together to form… a piece of paper?

She jabbed it once more. Twice more. It crumpled in at her prodding, just like normal paper, but otherwise gave no reaction. Gingerly, Lucky plucked the sheet from the ground to examine it.

It… it was a puzzle.

It had, in shimmering navy ink, a sudoku grid on it.

Another clump of sand lay a couple feet away, and when Lucky walked toward it, it transformed into another piece of paper, this one with a riddle. A pencil formed next to it.

Interesting….

Within a few minutes, she was sat on the sidewalk, pieces of paper scattered around her. These puzzles had to be hints, why else would they be forming? If she could simply solve them, then she’d have a clue as to this new villain’s motive, or their weakness, or-- something. Lucky would understand it when she got there.

Problem was, none of these problems were easy. She’d make a little progress on one, then hit a roadblock. Whether it was “pretty sure that’s a logic paradox” or “that quadratic isn’t factorable,” progress wasn’t coming easy. Which was stupid, because she was supposed to be the smart one. Charlotte was the smart sibling, the gifted kid in class, shouldn’t that have translated to her superhero persona? 

These puzzles had to have answers, she was just being stupid. If she just needed to solve these problems, and then she could find a pattern amongst them, and then she would have answers for Spots when she arrived. 

Where was Spots? How long had Lucky been working? She was pretty sure Spots should’ve been here by now. It was a good thing her partner hadn’t arrived yet, because then Lucky would have nothing to give her, and how stupid would that be. She needed to not be stupid. She needed to stop it and figure out these problems. Then, she’d have answers for Spots, and Spots wouldn’t think she was stupid. 

But no, that nine did have to go there in the sudoku grid. And that was the correct remainder even if it didn’t match with the word problem. And if Pinochio said “my nose will grow now,” that was a paradox, no way around it. None of it made sense.

But it had to. She was supposed to be smart, so she had to figure it out. 

Slamming footsteps echoed off of the old stone buildings cupping the street. 

Lucky looked up from her work, and her eyes honed in on Spots’ approaching figure. Spots rushed towards her, pursued by… was that Alya and Nino?

Now, they would all witness her failure, she’d arrived too soon--

“Decided we need help already?” Lucky quipped. She scrambled to scoop up all the pieces of paper. If they were stacked, no one would be able to see how little she had done, how  _ stupid-- _

Spots was closer now, and, her expression just barely big enough to see, she looked terrified. Was the villain behind the trio? Were they really so horrifying that Spots looked like she was about to sob?

Puzzles suddenly forgotten, Lucky stanced up before she could think, dropping the papers to be ready to take on the villain. Stupid or not, it didn’t matter, Spots was in danger right now.

Spots yelled something to her, but it mostly came out as  _ noise _ and  _ loud. _ Alya and Nino were shouting something too, though Lucky still couldn’t understand it--

The pair’s faces were close enough now that she could make out that they didn’t look nearly as terrified as Spots. They were… they were grinning.

“HELP ME!”

Spots’ words crashed over Lucky, and then she was bolting toward the three. 

Lucky didn’t know who the pursuers really were, if they really were Alya and Nino, but they were going down.

She was fast, she was  _ air, _ she was running past Spots and toward her enemies. With her baton, she swept Alya beneath her feet. Lucky ignored the thud of his skull hitting the pavement and kicked Nino in the chest, knocking him to the ground as well. Neither dared move from their positions on the ground, not under the threat of Lucky gripping her baton like a lance at their chests. That didn’t mean they stopped smirking apparently, their expressions not quite fitting their mouths.

Behind her came a quick curse and then the sounds of a yo-yo mixed with-- flapping paper? She spared a glance to check on her partner to find Spots smacking down now flying sheets of paper trying to zoom past. Lucky turned her attention back toward her detainees, but she was already putting together what was happening. Her own puzzle papers were coming after her, and Spots was holding them off.

When the sounds of ripping paper discontinued, Lucky asked, “So has the villain done something to Nino and Alya, or are these fakes?” She couldn’t see her partner’s face, or reaction.

“I-- Umm,” Spots stuttered, then forced a slow breath. “They’re from the villain. Sand creatures. I think he’s fear based, if these two have anything to say about it.”

“Impressive, she’s realized the obvious,” the Nino lookalike crooned. Lucky knew from those words alone that that wasn’t the real him. That was probably for the better, she realized, given the force she’d used to knock them down.

She pointed her baton at his face but found herself distracted by her partner’s words. “Wait, fear based? Then why--?” How come the sand near her had become a bunch of puzzles? How come she hadn’t been able to figure out the villain before Spots? She should’ve been able to do that; that was how she contributed to the partnership.

“I don’t know,” Spots groaned, interrupting her thoughts. Tired frustration edged into her voice. “I don’t know, I don’t know, I don’t know! But I want these two gone, and then maybe I’ll be able to think without screaming.”

Lucky nodded firmly.

They ended up tucking the sand creatures and shredded paper away in an alleyway dumpster, though the sight of seeing Alya and Nino lookalikes struggling in the garbage was one that she didn’t think she could wipe away easily. The entire time, the two spoke to Spots, if one classified demeaning and belittling her as speaking. She hadn’t been able to figure out how the Césaire couple had been scary enough to justify Spots’ hypothesis, but it had only taken a few comments from the fakes for her to connect the dots. 

Though the supervillain was still on the loose, the superheroes found themselves taking a breather next to the strangely silent dumpsters. She somewhat suspected they’d melted to sand after losing sight of their victim. Lucky found herself staring up at the dark sky, wondering how a singular akuma could bring night to an entire waking city. 

Spots’ face was completely blank, resolutely blank, as she stared at the opposite alley wall, but Lucky knew her partner well enough to know how controlled that expression was. They were taking a second to themselves for a reason, so she started, “You think the villain’s fear-based?”

Spots nodded reluctantly. “Yeah.” She didn’t elaborate.

Eyes narrowed, Lucky watched her partner’s face. “And your fear was--”

“Yeah,” she cut her off. 

“...Do you wanna talk about it?” she tried. Spots’ face was so stoney, so tight, it rivaled a compressed spring. 

“Trust me when I say I’ve already given that particular worry a lot of thought. Was how I realized it was fear based so quickly.” Her voice came out wet and raw. She ran a hand through her hair, and Lucky was reminded of her lack of gloves.

“Are you sure you’re okay--”

“You know why don’t we talk about your fear, huh?” Spots bit out, slapping her bare palms against her curled up knees. “You afraid of paper or something?”

Lucky shrunk back. She didn’t think she’d ever seen Spots act like this. Lucky’s voice had its own flavor of vitriol when she said, “There was writing. Impossible--” Because they had been impossible, she realized now; it hadn’t been her fault at all. “--puzzles for me to try and solve and feel stupid while doing it.” She’d been stupid to not realize-- No. She didn’t need to think like that. She deserved better.

Spots didn’t say anything for a while, and neither did Lucky. Lucky didn’t know why her partner was fuming, and she didn’t really understand why she was so annoyed either. Something scary had just happened, and Spots had snapped at her, and now stress picked at her bones like they were scabs. She didn’t know.

So she said, “Hey,” and bumped her shoulder into her partner’s.

Spots turned on her to glare, but it only took a second of Lucky smiling softly at her for her anger to wash away into-- well, not happiness. An acknowledging, tired sigh. 

“Can’t believe an angry me didn’t make the cut,” Lucky teased. “I think I really would’ve given the role some flare.”

A flash of realization crossed Spots’ face, and she groaned softly. “I’m sorry, it wasn’t about you, Alya and Nino are just the first to-- I mean, having them hate me in particular would be--”

“Woah! Hey.” Lucky cut her off with a hand on her shoulder and an amused smile. “It was a joke, I promise. My ego is fine.”

“Oh.” If it had been a little lighter out, Lucky was sure she would’ve been able to make out a brushing of pink on Spots’ cheeks. 

“Your--” Lucky tried to think about her words before saying them. She didn’t want her partner to shut her out. “Your mom doesn’t sound like she’s the greatest. I can see why you’d like Nino and Alya so much.” Spots never said much about her parents, but Lucky had gathered what she could. Her father wasn’t in the picture, and her mother… well she  _ was _ in the picture _. _

Spots visibly stilled before tucking her face into her knees. “My mom tries her best. Or at least I think she does. I don’t know.”

Although Lucky removed her hand from Spots’ shoulder, she did lean until their forearms pressed together. “Spots, I’m no whiz, but I’ve never doubted if my parents loved me and were doing their best to raise me and my siblings. They’ve made mistakes here and there sure, they’re people, but they’ve always done their best. And even if she is trying her best, that’s still allowed to be a bad job.”

Spots stayed resolutely frozen, but just for a moment, and then she oh so delicately placed her head on Lucky’s shoulder. Lucky’s breath caught in her throat. “If I had the choice, between--” Her voice choked, but Lucky knew what she meant. “I don’t know if I’d be able to make it.”

“That’s okay.” Her voice came out soft as falling snow. “I don’t think-- If it came to that, I don’t think it would have to be you who pushed for the decision. And you can just start with what you have now.”

Lucky felt her partner take one, two, three deep breaths. Then, Spots pulled herself off of Lucky’s shoulder and stood up. Holding out a hand, she whispered, “C’mon, we have an akuma to catch.” 

Lucky nodded and let herself be pulled to her feet. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello everyone!
> 
> Fun fact, this was originally combined with the next chapter, but in the name of time and somewhat consistent chapter lengths, I decided to split it up and get you some new words sooner. 
> 
> I really hope you enjoyed this newest installment, and if you did, feel free to leave a comment! They make my day and so much encouragement to keep this story going. As for this week's music choice, because Wow i'm still doing that, let's go with The Addams Family musical soundtrack, it slaps!!


	6. Adrien

Charlotte scribbled down one number. Then another. She was almost done with this math homework…

“Hel-LO, dear sibling of mine!” Emma burst through the bedroom door and slammed it behind her. She flopped over Charlotte’s shoulders.

Charlotte continued to fill out her math packet. “Sibling?” Her lips quirked into a somewhat smile.

“The door was still open, but, like, I’m not gonna call you my brother unless I have to, duh,” Emma explained, knocking her earrings into her sister’s neck.

Snorting to herself, she pushed her homework away from her. With Emma present, there would be no work done until her needs were satisfied. “So, what exactly are you here for?”

Emma sucked in a breath through her teeth, almost apologetic. “Yeah, you might wanna get Plagg out, some giant bubbles just kidnapped Mom and Dad.”

Charlotte jumped a little at those words.  _ “What?” _

Their parents? In bubbles?

Their parents had never been targeted before. She wasn’t sure what the odds of that were, but some part of her had kinda assumed that their associations with Miraculouses made them immune. But now they were  _ bubbled _ and counting on  _ her  _ to save them.

Emma confirmed with a nod, “Yeah, so I figure that’s an akuma--?”

“No  _ shit _ \-- okay, umm.” Math homework abandoned, Charlotte bolted across the room to stick a hand in her left shoe. She pulled out the Cat Miraculous and slipped it over a finger. Before Plagg could even fully appear, she called, “Plagg, claws out.”

Green light washed over, and even amongst the panic of her own parents being targeted, the warmth of euphoria grew. A sense of rightness settled throughout her body by the time the glow faded, and only now could she see her sister’s face.

Emma took her in, a little wide eyed. How many times had she seen her transform? This had to be one of the first. “Wow, that’s magic.” A fascinated expression dawned on her face; an impressed tone painted her voice.

Lucky grinned, then turned away and toward her window to make a hasty exit.

To her surprise, Spots was on the scene before she was. It wasn’t unheard of, but it definitely differed from their usual patterns. Also unusually, Spots’ complexion looked clammy and pale as she battled the villain in one-on-one combat. 

When the lumpy, pastel man cried, “I shall free all the children from their awful parents!” Lucky couldn’t help but think  _ “Well, at least his motive is valid.” _ But then she remembered who it was fighting him. The second she saw an opening in their fight, she pulled her partner into a side street. 

Inventing a strategy was important. But a supervillain could wait.  _ Paris _ could wait. Spots’ wellbeing could not. Not with Lucky there. She asked, “You doing okay, Spots? You look like you’re going to be sick.”

Spots did have that clammy, focus-scattered look about her. When she spoke, her words rushed out like a pouring waterfall. “I’m fine. I--”

Lucky locked her in a disbelieving look.

“I--” she tried again, but faltered again under the other’s gaze. Spots’ entire expression tensed as if she was trying to control all her facial muscles, and her voice came out the same way. “No. No, I’m not. But I’m not sick either, and we need to take down the Bubbler.” 

After staring down her partner for a moment more, Lucky decided relent. “Alright. Then let’s get--” Her baton buzzed, cutting her off. “It’s Alya.”

Spots pulled out her own yo-yo, and each read their own version of the message. It was a huge paragraph of information: the villain’s name was “the Bubbler,” he wanted revenge against parents mistreating their children, his akuma was in his soap bottle, and more. Lucky barely had time to wonder how Alya knew so much before one final message arrived.

_ “The Bubbler is Nino, don’t let that throw you. Your job is to save him, not take it easy on a villain.” _

That…

That changed things.

Akumas went after strangers. At worst, they possessed her parents’ friends. At worst, Monarch Moth’s victims were people she’d met and interacted with. At worst, she’d realize she’d seen them only a few days or even hours prior to their akumatization.

They weren’t supposed to go after people she actually knew. 

Nino was supposed to be off limits. 

Weeks ago, she’d learned from the Césaires that unlike the current supervillains, Lucky’s parents had faced people of all ages. At the time, she’d try to brush it off, convince herself that her friends and siblings were still safe. Now, that worry surged back up through her throat.

If even Nino could be akumatized, then could her own parents? Could Emma and Louis? Could Anne Marie?

Could  _ she _ be akumatized?

But then Lucky pulled her gaze from her baton, from the lingering words ( _ “The Bubbler is Nino” _ ), and saw Spots. She’d already tucked away her yo-yo and stared at some distant point that Lucky couldn’t see. Her mouth pressed into a tight frown; her fists clenched at her sides; her eyes were shiny and streaked red. 

And suddenly there was someone more important than Lucky’s own worries.

“Hey,” she murmured, tucking away her baton to hold Spots’ forearms in her hands. “We’ll save him, yeah? We’ll get him back.”

Spots’ eyes fixed themselves on Lucky’s face. “Do you promise?”

She nodded. “Promise.”

“Good.” Her partner pulled away and grabbed her yo-yo from her waste. Lucky didn’t miss how her face scrunched as she stuffed down her feelings. “I owe him an apology. He’s going to hear it.”

Louis spent a lot more time at his robotics club nowadays. Well, it wasn’t always robotics. Sometimes it was hanging out with friends, sometimes it was doing homework at a coffee shop, sometimes--

It didn’t matter. What did matter was that it felt like  _ every _ time Charlotte went looking for her brother, he was busy with one project or another and did not want to be bothered. He was grouchy, touchy, and, though he’d always been introverted, so overtly opposed to leaving the house with any of them, that she couldn’t help but grouch back.

It also meant that when Nino discovered that the Butterfly Miraculous was corrupted and therefore Monarch Moth could be someone without a malicious agenda… That they could simply be someone never seen during an akuma attack…

Charlotte didn’t have any hard evidence yet though. It was probably just her imagination. To be sure, she tried to slip into Louis’ room and see if she could find anything. However, after only about twenty minutes of searching, her brother caught her in the act. She made some excuse about looking for her charger, but from her mother holding back laughter upon finding Charlotte’s predictably-located charger, she didn’t think anyone really bought it.

She’d have to wait before investigating further.

Meeting her parents as her superhero self could be a lot of things. It could be easy, where conversation flowed smoothly and her parents suspected nothing. It could be revealing, where they did figure her out. It could be exciting; she was hearing all about their own adventures afterall. It would definitely be nerve-racking, anxiety-inducing, and a thousand other synonyms. But… it would also definitely be fun for Spots.

When Spots had proposed the idea of meeting Ladybug and Chat Noir, she’d been so excited, and she didn’t hide that giddiness either. 

“So,” Spots had started at one of their increasingly rare one-on-one meetings, “I was talking with Alya and Nino, and we realized that, since all of the villains are repeats, all of them had been defeated before. Soooo, it would be helpful to talk to the people who did that defeating.”

The two wandered the gabled rooftops, no direction or goal in mind. The shining sun reflected off of Spots’ golden hair, and Lucky pretended not to stare. Instead, she placed her focus on her partner’s words. “Wait… you mean like meeting Ladybug and Chat Noir? Like actually?” A little panic came out in her voice.

Spots spun around to face her, face bright like the sun glinting off her golden hair. “Can you imagine? Meeting the literal superheroes of Paris?”

Lucky could imagine better than most people what Chat Noir and Ladybug were like in person. She knew that Chat Noir kept a black cat plush on his school desk, that Ladybug often forgot to eat breakfast, that they both loved to kiss in front of their kids to make them boo them. Being their daughter had perks like that. 

However, a sense of incoherent worry filled her gut. If she met her parents while transformed, they could recognize her. And she didn’t have the time left to think more about that before she needed to say something back to Spots.

So she didn’t say that, she joked, “Spots, we’re the literal superheroes of Paris.”

She waved her hands as if wiping something away, attitude undampened. “You know what I mean, they’re the originals!”

Spots… Spots was serious about this. No, she was seriously excited about this. And even as worried as the idea made her feel… Lucky couldn’t find it in herself to be the one to stop that.

“It sounds fun, it’d be cool to meet them.” The words breezed past her lips easy as a breeze, even as her stomach clenched. 

And Lucky had never seen Spots so openly ecstatic as when she agreed.

Now, she sat in the Césaire living room, munching on cookies she’d snuck from the kitchen. Lucky had never considered herself a stress eater, but with the rate that she was shoving down these sweets, she might have to reconsider. When Alya joined her on the couch while Spots took a bathroom break, Lucky watched her curiously.

Alya, voice low, asked, “Are you sure you’re okay with talking to your parents under the mask?” 

That was the exact question she’d been asking herself.

“Honestly?” Lucky took a breath, forcing herself to continue. “I’m pretty sure they’re going to figure me out the second they step into the room. That’s kind of terrifying.”

It wasn’t-- The problem wasn’t them realizing she and their child were the same person. If anything, having them know her well enough and being open minded enough to see past her appearance to connect the dots, was… comforting? Validating? It would have meant her two identities were close enough that she was recognizable as herself in both forms.

The problem lay in her parents  _ knowing. _ Because if they  _ knew, _ then they could have  _ opinions _ and  _ reservations _ about her. Because what if they were disappointed? Because what if they thought she was making it up?

Lucky knew her parents, and for as much as those fears lingered in the back of her mind, she knew on a conscious level that her mom and dad wouldn’t hurt her or kick her out or any of the other horror stories. That was true for some people, sure, but not for her. However, it was much harder to beat back the fear that they would still be upset about it, because thay was a possibility. She could never fully cross out the idea that they might pretend she wasn’t the way she was without…

Well, without taking the plunge.

A hand on her shoulder drew her out of her thoughts. Alya murmured, “You can still leave. No one will be mad if you do.”

Shaking her head, Lucky scoffed. “Maybe not mad, but Spots'll be disappointed. She’s been really excited for this, and it’ll make her sad if I’m not there.”

“Do  _ you _ want to be here?” Alya prodded, and Lucky paused.  _ Did _ she want to be here?

She wanted to make sure Spots had a good time. She wanted to hear about the villains firsthand instead of through a game of telephone. She… She wanted to be  _ brave _ and take a bit of a risk and be more herself with her parents than she’d ever been. 

Lucky had pushed herself into attending out of a desire to please her partner, but now that she was here, she wanted to push through for herself.

“I-- yes, I think I do.”

“Okay.” Alya stood and left through the kitchen door.

Lucky sat in the living room by herself. The air sat still, resting on itself in layers upon layers. She sucked in a breath through her nose and exhaled through her mouth. This too would pass.

And then Alya returned with more cookies, and the moment dissipated.

The evening blinked by faster than Lucky could comprehend, with each second taking an eternity but the whole event taking a heartbeat. Amidst the jokes and one minor slip up where she’d almost called her mother “Mom,” Adrien’s gaze lingered on her. At first, she thought it was a trick of her imagination, but as the night progressed she grew more sure. He watched her as if watching a movie where he recognized one of the actors, but couldn’t quite place what else he’d seen them in. 

As the evening wrapped up, Adrien teased, “Don’t you have parents?” in reference to the idea that “gee, wouldn’t someone notice how late she was out?”

It was a joke, Lucky knew this, but a cold feeling washed over her. Her dad wasn’t stupid; he asked out of more than just oblivious humor. He might not have suspected her actual identity, but he was investigating her strange familiarity. 

So she responded with her own joke, tsk-ing back, “I think that’s confidential mister! I answer that, and you’ll know that I’m an orphan, which will lead you right to my identity as Batman!”

Lucky smirked at him, and he smiled back, a question curving his lips and eyebrows. 

She hadn’t given herself away completely in conversation, even if he knew he knew her. She couldn’t bring herself to worry about her identity at that moment, just raised a brow to challenge him to continue. She  _ dared _ him to try and recognize her.

After an evening spent joking and bonding with her parents, a sense of comfort resonated within her skeleton. Lucky found herself making the decision to trust her parents that, if they figured her out, they would believe her and support her. She trusted them.

Alya placed a hand on her shoulder and ushered both her and Spots out the apartment door. “Well, ‘Batman’ needs to get back to her mansion before Alfred begins to worry.” 

Her father’s lingering gaze didn’t turn on a detransformed Charlotte, and she would be lying if she said that didn’t relieve her a bit. However, that didn’t mean his watch disappeared entirely, as the few times she ran into Adrien as Lucky, he watched her with the same curious eyes. 

She just waited for him to ask his question.

Finally, her father did just that, tracking her down after an akuma attack. 

It hadn’t been the first time her sword skills had come in handy, and it likely wouldn’t be the last. As Lucky fenced the supervillain, named Riposte, in a stone square, Spots snuck up from behind. Though she bounced around and kept light on her feet, she knew she was outmatched. Her strikes were quicker, her reflexes faster, her strategies smarter; it was the kind of skill that only came with years of practice. Frankly, they were years that Lucky just didn’t have.

She only had to fend off Riposte for a few moments though, just enough time for Spots to sneak around and drop a Lucky Charm tire on top of the villain. Breaking her sword to free the akuma was quick work from there. In an instant, her partner shouted, “Lucky charm!” and ladybugs swarmed the city, repairing all the sliced statues and smashed walls. 

When the red and white flock cleared, all that remained were two superheroes, a sword clattered on the ground, and a dazed Ms. Tsurugi. A dash of upset splashed in her stomach; yet another person Lucky cared about victimized by Monarch Mother.

“I’d forgotten what that felt like,” Ms. Tsurufi said, clearly unsettled. “Apologies for any distress I may have caused.”

With a kind smile that left Lucky feeling warm, Spots waved her off. “Everything’s good, no harm done.” Her earrings beeped. “Ah, I have to go.”

“I can take care of her, you head out,” Lucky assured her. With a nod, Spots spun away and zipped away on her yo-yo. After giving herself a moment to watch her partner rush away, Lucky turned back toward her fencing teacher. “How are you feeling? Anything I can do to help you?”

Ms. Tsurugi shook her head. “I am fine now. There is nothing you can do about my relationship with my mother, some things simply are. However--” She walked over to a nearby park bench, took a seat, and patted the spot next to her. “--you saved me. What can  _ I _ do for  _ you?” _

At the edge of the square, Lucky noticed her father creeping onto the scene. Her breath caught in her throat, and she found herself joining Ms. Tsurugi on the bench before she could think through the action. 

With her clearly occupied with an akuma victim, Adrien remained far away. Lucky realized his presence wasn’t a trap, as she could take any number of rooftop routes to escape, not to mention the numerous streets he left open, but instead, it was an invitation. She had the option of talking to him without seeking out her father herself. A new sense of calm washed over her. This was her decision to make, and hers alone.

She looked up at Ms. Tsurugi and asked, “Do you think I should go for it?”

Ms. Tsurugi tilted her head in question. “It?”

“It.” Lucky nodded.

She knew the answer before it left her teacher’s mouth; she’d heard it many times before. “You can either be comfortable, or you can be courageous, but you cannot be both. Do not hesitate.”

Lucky nodded again, but this time to herself instead of Ms. Tsurugi. “Thanks.” With that, she stood from the bench and walked toward her father. A flash of surprise crossed his face, though he said nothing as she closed the distance.

She allowed herself one deep breath before asking, “Would you like to take a walk?”

Adrien, still looking startled, agreed. “I would.”

The two began to wander in a random direction, neither saying anything for the first few minutes. Lucky wasn’t sure if he was waiting for her to speak first, just as she was waiting for him to do himself. They found themselves tracing the bank of the Seine, and she admired the murky cobalt blue. Not all rivers were so lucky as to have such comparably little pollution, especially not ones that flowed through cities.

“I’ll be honest, I didn’t expect you to come talk to me,” Adrien started, his voice complimented by the sound of lapping water. 

“I don’t think I did either,” Lucky admitted, and she knew her words to be true.

The two walked in silence for several minutes more, passing building after building, tree after tree. 

She said, “I kinda figured you’d come knocking though. You’ve been… curious since the meeting at Alya and Nino’s house.”

“‘The meeting at Alya and Nino’s house,’” Adrien noted, “Not ‘since we first met.’”

“I think you knew that.” Lucky glanced up to watch her father’s face. His expression lifted, considering her assertion, before he nodded.

“I--” Her father looked toward her as he visibly tried to place her appearance. She could see him trying to know her, trying to fight the Miraculous magic protecting her identity, and a part of her warmed at the level of effort he forced. “Who  _ are _ you?” he said.

Lucky’s heart was racing. She had so much to say, so much to explain, but…. It was easier to hide. It was so much easier to push off the conversation for one day more, one week more, one forever more. A gaping chasm loomed in front of her, and Lucky couldn’t see the bottom.

She stared at her father’s face. Laugh lines crinkled the skin around his eyes. His expression searched for answers in her own actions. A desire to learn sat in his green eyes, eyes that reminded Lucky of Emma.

Memories of all the times she’d been misgendered flickered through her head like a movie. She hadn’t wanted that. Each time, she’d promised herself that “It won’t be forever.” Now was the time to make a change before forever happened.

She tried to speak once, then twice, then thrice, before she got the words out. Finally, she started, “I’m a lot of people, I’ve discovered.” Though Lucky struggled to find the words she wanted to tell her dad, she pushed onward, hoping that the right words would fall from her lips. “I’m a lot of things. I’m a superhero, a fencer, a teenager, a piano player. And I’m also--” Her heart beat harder in her chest, so loud she was sure Adrien could hear it too. 

It would be so easy to back down, just say “nope” and pole vault away. It would be awkward as shit, embarrassing as all fuck, but the nervous adrenaline thrumming through her veins demanded she run. However, as her palms sweated in her leather gloves, and she breathed faster than their slow amble required, Ms. Tsurugi’s words fluttered through her mind.

_ “You can either be comfortable, or you can be courageous, but you cannot be both.” _

Well, Lucky sure as Hell wasn’t comfortable, so she supposed she only had one real choice.

“I’m transgender. And… and I’m Hugo.”

A sense of nerves buried in her chest like a swarm of ticks, but the words were out there now, and she couldn’t take them back.

Her father… her father was looking at her. Lucky tried to stare resolutely ahead, at the edge of the bridge they stood on, but their pace had slowed to a halt. Without looking back, she could feel his attention completely turned on her, and fear held her frozen. Because the second she looked over, she would see his reaction, and what if it wasn’t the one she wanted? What if this all went wrong?

But she had to know.

Slowly, slower than molasses, she forced her gaze to meet her dad’s, and he… 

He looked like a man witnessing a sunrise for the first time. Like he was soaking up every detail and realizing how the world would look entirely different from then on, like he was utterly taken in by the wonderfulness he saw. 

When his hands reached up to cradle her head in his hands, she leaned into the touch and let him tilt her face back and forth. 

“Say something?” Lucky could see his reaction, but she wanted to hear it too, just in case.

“Let’s… let’s sit down,” he said, and luckily, there was a bench on that bridge they stood on. So they did sit, melting onto its metal, and he still had a hand on her cheek. “I can’t believe I didn’t realize,” were the next words, soft and self dismissive, out of his mouth.

“I think that’s part of the magic,” Lucky reminded him. 

“True.” Her dad huffed and gave a small smile. It took him a moment to get his next words out. “I love you, very much. You know that, right?”

It took all her willpower to keep her wet eyes in check. As it was, her voice came out raw and similarly damp. “Yeah, yeah I do.”

“Good.” He nodded. “I’ll be honest, this... it’s a lot to take in.”

Lucky couldn’t help but snort a little at that. “I know.”

People wandered the walkways passing by their bridge, and more than a few probably wondered what their superhero was doing, looking like she was about to cry with a similarly teary man. She didn’t particularly care though. She was here with her dad, as his daughter, for the first time.

She told him, “I like the name Charlotte a lot.”

“Yeah?” he asked, still smiling gently. “Charlotte it is then.”

Lucky grinned back at him, a dash of giddiness in her stomach. She couldn’t resist the temptation to steal a quick hug from her dad.

“No, no, no, gimme a real hug.” Laughter tinging his voice, he scooped her into a hug and squeezed. He’d never been the type to shy away from physical affection, at least not since she could remember (Grandpa Hawkmoth didn’t seem the type to encourage such displays), and Lucky smiled into her dad’s warm chest. 

“I’ll be honest, I have some questions,” he told her, voice sailing past her head.

“I think that’s fair. I did steal your Miraculous.” Lucky pulled back from the hug to look him in the eye. “I need to go find a place to detransform, don’t want anyone catching me climbing in through my own window. Can we talk at home?”

He nodded. “I’ll see you there.”

It took some effort to drag herself away from her father, from where he stayed stationary on the bridge, from where he watched her vault away. 

But that… that had gone more than well. She’d done it! Her dad knew and loved her and Lucky felt like she would burst as realization of what just happened dawned on her. Before she realized it, she stopped on a rooftop and pulled out her baton to call Alya.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We made it to another chapter folks!
> 
> I think this might just be my update time for this fic now, though I don't have any real reason why. Longer than a week makes sense given the chapter length, but I'm not sure, it just takes two weeks to get it all out there and presentable. I can live with that, I'm still writing!
> 
> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed. If you did, please leave a comment! I leave a note in the end notes saying this every chapter, but Legit I am so much more excited and determined to write when I have outside positive reinforcement so like, Know its so appreciated when you do.
> 
> Also, my best friend has bullied me into listening to The Great Comet soundtrack, so now that is what I am recommending to all of you. See you next chapter everyone!


	7. Marinette

Charlotte was born into a household of six: two parents, two twin children, and two kwamis. Imagining a childhood without Tikki’s watchful eye or Plagg’s mischievousness felt bare, and she wasn’t sure how other kids managed. She supposed it was like how some households contained live-in grandparents, except bug-sized and immortal. They were inherent parts of her household, even if they weren’t in other people’s.

When she’d first taken the Cat Miraculous, even though she could see Plagg whenever she wanted, Charlotte had still missed the kwami. He wasn’t missing from her but… he was missing from her family. He couldn’t bother her father about buying more cheese, couldn’t chase Tikki around the house, couldn’t “help” with Louis’ card towers, not when she asked him to stay hidden. 

One of the best results of coming out to her sister and father was getting to reshare Plagg with them. Regardless of their jokes about not missing him and his demands for camembert from them, Charlotte could tell from the extra head scratches and soft smiles that they were more than happy to see their kwami again. Watching Plagg reunite with his previous wielder, her father, was especially sweet.

When she arrived home immediately after coming out to her dad, when they talked more about it, she slipped her ring back on. Plagg swirled out in a ball of light, and her father’s own eyes went wide.

“Plagg?” he asked, like talking to glass. 

“Hey, kid.” Because regardless of how old Adrien grew, he was always “kid” to Plagg. Charlotte had learned not to question that a long time ago. “You got quite a daughter here. Makes me do by joooob.”

Her father snorted. “I know, Plagg, I know.” He reached out his hand and pet the kwami on the head.

When Charlotte entered Emma’s room without knocking, she expected to find Emma hunched over a piece of homework, ready for reprieve. It was Friday, and a new episode of Puppet History had just been released. The two always watched the series together, hence the bothering. Instead, she found Emma on her bed, hunched over her script. Emma mumbled to herself, murmured words Charlotte couldn’t quite make out. 

So she said, “Can I steal you away for a moment? There’s a new ep--”

“Not--” Emma bit back her next words, groaning in frustration. ‘Not right now.“

“Pleeeeaaase.” Charlotte wasn’t taking this seriously. This wasn’t the first time Emma had gotten stuck on some homework, and she had always enjoyed taking a break from it. “It’ll only take, like, half an hour.”

When Emma looked up at her, Charlotte realized that “always” wasn’t as always as she thought it was. “Charlotte!” Emma tried again, voice snippy and sharp like garden shears. “Go. Away.”

Charlotte bristled. “Alright, fine. I’ll leave you be.” She began to back out of the bedroom, but she hesitated to close the door, which apparently her sister did not care for.

“Oh my God, just go!”

After Charlotte quickly slammed it shut, she heard the thud of a pillow hitting the door.

Who stepped on her toes? she wondered bitterly. 

Spots and Lucky lay in a park. The sun just broke the horizon to reach the rest of the sky, and they lay in the dew soaked grass. Their hands sat inches away from each other; Lucky felt the distance. Saturday mornings were made for sleeping in and soft wake ups, but she would be lying if she said she preferred that over sharing the dawning rays with her partner.

As Spots stared up at the lightening sky, she still panted from the finished villain fight. She asked, “Do you ever want to meet up?”

“We’re hanging out right now?” Lucky blinked in confusion. “Plus all the time at Alya and Nino’s, and we do still do stuff one-on-one--”

“No I mean… without the masks.”

Her breath caught her chest. “...Oh,” was all she managed.

It wasn’t like the thought hadn’t crossed her mind. She’d had her fair share of hope driven fantasies (and anxiety filled day terrors) on the subject. However, she knew none of her dreamt up scenarios strayed anywhere near realism, and when forced to actually consider reality… She liked being Lucky. She was comfortable as Lucky. Not comfortable as in afraid to leave her comfort zone, but comfortable as in safe enough to explore her own boundaries. Her mask gave her a wonderful buffer between who she thought others expected her to be and who she wanted to be.

And she loved being known to Spots as Lucky and only Lucky. Spots never knew her as anyone else, so she didn’t know to think of her wrong. The secrecy gave way to Lucky’s truth.

She did her best to explain this to Spots without pulling back the curtain too much. “I like being this version of myself with you. I don’t want to ruin that by showing you what else there is.”

Spots stayed silent for a long while, and Lucky could sense her defensive expression without seeing it. When she did speak, her voice came out low. “If you’re afraid I won’t like you or think badly of you, I won’t. I promise.”

“Spots...” A soft, affectionate laugh burbled from Lucky’s throat. “It’s not that. It’s just… if you knew who I was, behind the mask, you’d know… Not bad things. But private things. Things I don’t have to tell you, might not want to tell you, at least for a while. I need time.”

Her partner hummed in response as she picked at her fingernails.

“Why doesn’t your costume have gloves?” Lucky finally voiced the question that had sat at the back of her mind for months.

Fidgeting intensifying, Spots huffed almost inaudibly. “I like to have my hands free; it makes it easier to-- Gloves make me feel trapped.”

Lucky nodded before curiosity prodded at her to ask another question. “Easier to do what, exactly?”

“I-- Huh,” Spots shifted in her bed of grass and leaves. “I think I get it when you talk about me knowing a version of you.”

She hadn’t intended for this result, but her mouth quirked up into a smile. “Yeah?” 

“Mmhmm.”

So Lucky left it at that. She wanted her right to privacy, and she could grant Spots that same kindness. The sun’s rays stretched across the park, filling Lucky with their warmth. Her hand closed the inches between itself and Spots’ own fingers, and a different warmth grew in her chest when Spots’ squeezed back.

Charlotte’s parents used to wield Miraculouses. They used to have their kwamis flitting around their home. Before that, they used to leap around Paris; they used to save Paris from their counterpart villain Hawkmoth. 

Charlotte’s parents didn’t wield Miraculouses anymore. Not since she and Spots snatched them up for themselves. Oh sure, since her mother was the Guardian of the Miraculouses, they had access to more. They could wield Miraculouses once more. But they weren’t their Miraculouses, and the new jewelry wouldn’t bring back their kwamis. Plus, with two new superheroes protecting Paris, they didn’t feel the need to bond with a new Miraculous.

Charlotte had onced asked her parents about this, asked why they let Alya be Lucky and Spots’ back up instead of stepping in themselves. Her mother had sighed thoughtfully. “Both of us were really close with our kwamis. We’ve spent decades with each other, formed strong bonds you can only really get between a kwami and their wielder. To find a new kwami, when circumstances don’t demand that we move on quickly… it would feel cheap. It wouldn’t feel right. Besides, like you said, Alya can take care of them when they need it; they don’t need more adults stepping on their toes.”

Now, Charlotte and her mother sat inside a local ice cream parlor. Not the mythic André’s ice cream, but a suitable substitute in her opinion. As the cold crept into control of the weather, ice cream dates became less and less reasonable. Marinette and Charlotte didn’t care though. All that mattered was the ice cream dripping down the cone and the little bouts of brain freeze. 

Regardless of her mother’s reluctance to mask up herself, her curiosity of the new heroes had no such restrictions. Charlotte knew that she asked Alya about them and checked in that way, but she also knew Marinette still kept tabs on her own children’s thoughts on the matter. Instead of her original intent of convincing Emma it was safe to admit she was Lucky, she now searched to understand the situation itself.

Basically, it wasn’t a surprise when, at the ice parlor, she asked, “So what are your thoughts on the new superheroes?”

As much as Charlotte had expected the question, she still struggled to find an answer that bridged maintaining secrecy and being honest enough that she could keep her story straight. “Umm, Spots is pretty cool.” Best to deflect and not talk about herself. Besides, it wasn’t like finding things to say about her partner would be difficult.

“Yeah?” her mother prodded.

Charlotte nodded. “Yeah.” Marinette didn’t say anything, just licked her vanilla cone and kept a listening eye on her daughter. When the silence crept into the air, Charlotte barrelled forward, thirsting to clear it. “I mean, both of them save Paris on a regular basis, which is an objectively good thing.”

“Right.” Her mother nodded. “But you like Spots in particular?” It was almost an accusation. No- not an accusation but… it was directed, laced with thought. She knew that Charlotte’s answer meant something in particular, even if she wasn’t sure what. 

“I mean, yeah,” Charlotte said. “She’s the one to save the day. You’ve seen her fight, she’s always so determined to do what’s right. That’s really admirable in a hero.”

“But you don’t think that Lucky is the same?” her mother pushed curiously.

As she stared at her mother, she realized she had a choice to make. Charlotte thought about Nino, and Alya, and Emma, and Plagg, and her dad, and she realized that this… what she was considering... wasn’t as scary as it once had felt. She had people to fall back on, people who she knew would come to her aid as she would do for them. But even more than that… Charlotte realized that the odds that her mother wouldn’t believe her, or would be disappointed, or  _ whatever, _ they were much, much lower than her fear would have her believe. She knew her mom. She knew better than ever that the odds were in her favor. Better yet, she trusted her mom enough to believe the odds were in her favor.

“I don’t think it’d be very fair if Lucky was my favorite.” As Charlotte reached into her back pocket, she watched Marinette tilt her head and crease her eyebrows. 

Her voice was laced with the trimmings of humor when she said, “And why’s that, Hugo?”

Charlotte placed her black ring on the table, its little paw print oriented to face her mother, then went back to licking her ice cream cone. Despite her increased confidence, nerves still bundled in her stomach, even if it was less than before. She focused on the taste of chocolate while Marinette stared at the Miraculous.

Her mother gave a small laugh. “I hate to say it, but I expected this.”

“That--” Charlotte would’ve choked if she had been drinking something. “That’s a new one.”

She’d expected positive parental understanding, prepared for a displeased reluctance, but she hadn’t even considered the idea that her mother might already have an inkling.

Giggling even harder, Marinette said, “Sweetie, I love you, but you’re not exactly subtle.”

Her mother had just known?? This entire time??? How did she know so much, did she really have eyes on the back of her head like she’d claimed when Charlotte was little? Charlotte tried to feign annoyance, but her own snickering broke the facade. Even with the leftover anxiety marinating in her stomach, she couldn’t find it within herself to make this a somber occasion. “Okay, but literally no one else has figured it out except for Alya, and she. Cheated. I think I’m doing great!” she exclaimed as loud as one can in an ice cream parlor without drawing looks from other customers. 

Her mother snorted. “Well, I’m no Alya, but I like to think all my years as a superhero mean I can recognize when my child is using the exact same excuses to leave for an akuma attack I did when I was in highschool.”

“Oh yeah?” Charlotte challenged. “Then why didn’t Dad figure it out?”

Marinette pursed her lips. “Do you want the funny answer or the real answer?”

That… was actually a bit intriguing. Was there an actual reason why even her father hadn’t figured out her identity? “...Real answer,” she said after some consideration.

Her mother licked her ice cream as she tried to find the right words. “You know about MIraculous identity magic, right? How Miraculouses mess with people’s perceptions so no one will know who is under the mask?”

Charlotte nodded. “Yeah. Some Miraculouses are better at it than others. Alya’s mentioned how the Cat and Ladybug Miraculouses are two of the best at it because they just have a ton of powerful magic, but then the Fox Miraculous is up there with them because of Trixx being the kwami of illusions.” She recalled how when she’d first learned this information, she’d wondered if that was how Alya got so close to guessing her identity, but then Charlotte remembered that  _ everyone _ had thought Emma wielded the Cat Miraculous. The entire ruse had been Miraculous magic, and Alya had fallen prey to it like everyone else.

“Exactly,” Marinette confirmed while Charlotte took a bite from her cone. “But did you know how long you’ve had a Miraculous can also come into play?”

“You still had the Ladybug earrings when I first got my ring.” Charlotte’s eyes widened in realization, but then she shook her head in confusion. “But wait, no one saw me as Lucky until after Spots got her Miraculous. How does that count if you never saw me transformed until after you lost the earrings?”

Her mother held up the hand not holding her cone in a half-shrug. “It’s a theory. My best guess is that I had enough magical residue leftover to let me see through, plus I had seniority on my side, but still, it took Alya confirming that Lucky wasn’t Emma for me to get there. Also--” She licked a stray drip of ice cream off her hand. “--you do realize that your dad and I have trans friends? You’ve met Alix and Marciel, right?”

Charlotte choked on her own breath. She had not been aware of that, though she really thought she deserved to have that information before this moment. 

Marinette paused and took in whatever shocked expression Charlotte currently sat on her face. “Did… did I get the wrong idea? I’m sorry, that just felt like what was happening--”

“Nope,” she cut her off. “You got me right, I just-- how did I not know that? I was stressing over nothing all this time! And--” Charlotte took another bite from her cone, feeling a bit like she was hiding behind her treat. “--was I really that obvious?”

Her mother giggled softly and tucked a stray strand behind Charlotte’s ear. It was getting long enough to do that, which made her smile. Marinette said, “I don’t think so, sweetie, but I don’t think it would be a bad thing if you were. That would just mean you were… acting authentically to yourself. Besides, it wasn’t big things, just little comments and mannerisms. Things I remember Marciel and Alix doing back in highschool.”

She… she’d reminded her mother of other trans people. Charlotte felt like she should have felt embarrassed or laid bare, and she did feel seen, but… was there anything as comforting as hearing that something was so a part of you that it came out when you weren’t even trying? 

“But Dad still didn’t realize on his own.” Charlotte realized as she said it, then laughed. “You know, that checks out actually.”

A grin stretching across her face, Marinette shook her head. “Miraculous identity magic or no, subtle social hints have never been his forte.” 

Charlotte’s laugh grew, then slowed to a stop, ending with a sigh. She wanted to know something. “Do you… do you wish I’d taken your Miraculous instead? So that I could reunite you with Tikki?”

A look of dawning realization crossed her mother’s face. “I hadn’t considered that.” She took one final bite of her ice cream cone finishing it off. Grabbing a napkin, Marinette began wiping down her sticky hands.

“So? Do you?” Charlotte prodded impatiently. Before this conversation, the idea that her mother might prefer it if she had taken the ladybug earrings hadn’t crossed her mind. She’d thought the opposite, that at least her mother still had her Miraculous even if her father didn’t, up until Marinette had lost hers to Spots.

Her mother hummed to herself, further prolonging the wait, much to Charlotte’s agitation. “Do you think Spots would get along with Tikki or Plagg better?”

That… that was a good question. Charlotte had never seen Tikki and Spots interact for obvious reasons, but she had to imagine… She knew that Spots had enough rule breaking in her before getting her Miraculous, given how she’d gotten her earrings. She and Plagg would get along but… Charlotte didn’t think they were as good of a fit as Tikki and Spots were. Tikki was a bundle of positivity and guidance, something she got the impression Spots’ could make use of.

She did her best to explain this to Marinette, who nodded.

“I don’t think I’d change anything then. Tikki’s where she needs to be.” She smiled serenely, then interrupted herself with a snort, “I suppose I’ll just have to live with seeing the cheese monster again when we’re back at home.”

“Plagg will be glad to see you,” Charlotte said earnestly. “He says that he likes watching the drama of me sneaking around, but I think he misses everyone else more than he lets on.”

“That sounds about right,” Marinette replied with more than a little fondness in her voice. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyyyyyy
> 
> It's been a hot second, huh. This chapter has actually been finished since I posted the last chapter, but the next one is still in the works, just on the basis of how I do my writing. I... haven't been super motivated to write this fic. I'm not super happy with it, to be honest. There's stuff I'm proud of, stuff I am happy with, what I've done with it, but some stuff that I can't change now that I just think could've been done differently. I'm not going to go into specifics because the second I point anything negative out, it'll be impossible to miss, and that's really just not fair for the people who are enjoying this fic. I also don't want to spend energy on writing out and publishing criticisms of my own work, because that's literally helpful to no one, especially not to me. I'm not going to punish myself for writing.
> 
> I Will finish this, having a posted wip just sitting there forever would drive me crazy. By publishing this chapter, I'm promising to myself that I will begin working on the final one. However, unless I get Really Motivated to do a one shot (which is possible, the Louis one shot was very much "I have an emotion that I Must vent" (and shh we don't have to talk about how that was a vent fic)), this will likely be the last installment of this series. Again, I'm not going to go into my reasons, because I'd rather just focus on the positives of the fun that I have had with this series, and hopefully you've had fun with it too. I'll be back soon, I hope you've enjoyed this chapter! <3


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